Sins of the Father
by Emiko74
Summary: As their freshman year at Hearst draws to a close, Logan and Veronica's relationship begins to unravel. But a new mystery could bring them together again.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Logan**

"Did you know the first two letters of our names spell 'love'?"

Logan's low voice interrupted the hallowed quiet of the Hearst library, where he sat across from Veronica, one leg propped on the chair. Finals were weeks away, but Veronica had insisted he buckle down and study. When he'd suggested working in the comfort and privacy of his hotel suite, she'd merely given him one of her withering stares and dragged him to the library instead.

On a Friday night.

They'd been cooped up among stacks of dry, academic tomes for hours, and after half-heartedly skimming his psych text, Logan was in desperate need of exercising Freud's pleasure principal. He'd started doodling in the spiral notebook Veronica had given him at the start of the semester. "You see, when the professor talks, you're supposed to write down what he says," she'd informed him in her snootiest voice.

Looking up from the book she'd been furiously highlighting, Veronica craned her neck to see what Logan had scrawled. She rolled her eyes, but her lips curved in amusement. In one, swift motion, Veronica reached over and snatched the notebook from Logan's hands. She picked up a Sharpie and, tapping the end on her chin, considered the page.

Then, with slow deliberation, Veronica drew a bright red line through the scribbled initials – LoVe – and wrote something of her own.

"The first two letters of our names also spell 'vole,'" Veronica replied, sliding the notebook back across the table.

"Vole? What the hell is that?" Logan asked.

"Voles are small, furry rodents that resemble meadow mice," Veronica answered with a smirk. "And like all rodents, they spread lots of nasty diseases."

Shaking his head with a grin, Logan leaned forward and whispered, "You. Are such. A romantic."

Their lips met halfway across the table.

"Veronica," Logan said huskily, after they broke apart. "Whad'ya say we blow this boring fire trap and salvage what's left of our night? Dick's visiting his mom, so we've got the suite to ourselves. Plus, there's some Ben & Jerry's chilling in the freezer…"

"Hmmm…tempting…"

"Well, I _am_ hard to resist," Logan said, entwining his fingers with Veronica's.

"I meant the ice cream."

Sighing, Logan slumped in his chair and studied Veronica as she turned her attention back to the open book. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she bit her lower lip. Logan was hit with a sudden, powerful urge to throw Veronica on the table and do things to her that would make her bite her lip alright - but it sure as hell wouldn't be over some stupid criminology final.

They'd been lovers for nearly a year now, but Logan still marveled each time he was allowed to kiss Veronica, touch her and sleep curled against her. He couldn't quite believe Veronica Mars belonged to _him_ – in a manner of speaking, anyway.

After all, she _was_ Veronica Mars.

And he was Logan Echolls, the son of a murderer.

When Veronica got back from New York, it had taken her two days to contact Logan. He'd known her silence meant she'd changed her mind about him, so he got drunk on leftover bottles of champagne. Hell, he'd been half expecting it, anyway.

But on the third day, she'd shown up at the Neptune Grande with Chinese food and movies in place of explanations. Wordlessly, he'd let her in. That night, Logan held her as they fell asleep on the couch watching "South Park" until the wee hours of the morning.

They saw each other nearly every day after that. Sometimes he'd stop by Java the Hut, where he gulped one caramel macchiato after another, just so he could catch Veronica during her break or lulls between customers. On her days off, they'd gone to the beach, Backup in tow, or strolled along the Neptune Boardwalk hand-in-hand. Afterwards, in between slurps of spaghetti, they'd smile at each other over the drippy white candles and red-checkered tablecloths at Veronica's favorite Italian restaurant.

Logan had come to think of it as the summer he'd quietly campaigned to win Veronica's heart.

But when it came to sex, he had been painstakingly careful not to pressure her.

Logan was the only person who knew what really happened at Shelly Pomroy's party. Only he knew she sometimes cried herself to sleep, and no one else understood the real source of her nightmares. So every time they kissed in the backseat of his yellow SUV, or necked on the couch, Logan let Veronica set the pace. And, when their make-out sessions got too heated, he was the one who doused cold water on things.

In the end, though, it was Veronica who'd perfectly orchestrated Logan's seduction.

She'd wanted to spend her birthday on Catalina Island, saying they'd never been on an actual first date. After a tranquil sail, they'd sat on a bench and shared a caramel apple while looking out over Avalon Bay. When Veronica leaned over to kiss him, Logan could taste the cool ocean spray on her lips, then creamy, sweet caramel as her tongue tousled with his.

Later that night when they lay in his bed, Veronica turned to Logan again, this time pressing her body urgently against him. When she'd wrenched a reluctant groan from Logan's lips, Veronica had giggled and the sound made his cock harder than he thought possible.

That's when Logan had known he was a goner.

"Veronica …are you _sure_?" he'd managed to rasp out, when she settled onto his lap and began planting soft kisses along his jaw line.

"Logan, you're talking too much."

"I just – I don't want you to regret anything," he'd said softly.

Logan could still remember the sudden sheen in Veronica's eyes as she whispered fiercely, "The only thing I'll regret is letting Cassidy ruin this for us."

He'd threaded his fingers in Veronica's hair, gently drawing her close and raising his lips to hers. Later, sated and boneless, she'd laughed in his arms and the sound made Logan's heart soar.

"I gotta tell you Mars," he'd gently chided. "You, laughing your ass off after we've just had mind-blowing sex, is doing great things for my ego. Mind telling me what's so funny?"

"You were right," Veronica had giggled. "Cuddling isn't the best part."

Now, almost a year later, Logan realized he'd never been happier. It was Friday night and he was sitting in a drafty library that smelled vaguely of musty, old socks. And he didn't care as long as he was with Veronica.

She looked up then, and caught his gaze. "Logan, you're supposed to be studying," Veronica scolded, tapping her yellow highlighter on his now-closed psychology textbook.

She was smiling, though, and Logan leaned across the table to brush his lips against hers in a soft kiss. He drew back and seeing the glaze in Veronica's eyes, sat back with a grin.

"Yeah, well I was tired of getting my head shrunk," Logan said.

Yawning, Veronica rubbed her neck and checked her watch. "You win. Let's get out of here." She stood and began shoving notes into her bag along with her laptop as Logan grabbed their books.

They exited the Spanish style building through the arched doorway and Logan draped his free arm around Veronica's shoulders. Although it was late in spring, evenings along the Southern California coast were still chilly. He could feel Veronica shiver slightly against him.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, as they approached his car.

"Famished."

"I love it when you use your SAT words. Totally turns me on."

"Logan, dung beetles turn you on," She leaned a hip against the SUV and grinned up at him.

Ignoring her last comment, Logan brushed Veronica's hair from her face and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "I was going to suggest we get coffee and dessert."

Ten minutes later, they walked into Java the Hut. Surveying the busy café, Veronica spotted a familiar face and Logan found himself trailing after her, as she made a beeline past the bakery counter.

Mac was sitting at a corner table across from a very tall, Asian American guy that Logan recognized from somewhere. He was gesturing wildly as he told what appeared to be funny story, judging by the way Mac was laughing into her cappuccino. They both looked up as Veronica and Logan approached their table.

"Hey guys," Mac said, surprised to see them.

The stranger's dark eyes widened and he blurted, "Is this your rescue party? How'd you signal for them? I didn't even see your hands leave the table."

As Logan and Veronica exchanged puzzled glances, Mac shook her head laughing. "No, no, no. I made Wallace my go-to guy tonight," she assured him, still giggling. "If he was setting me up on a blind date, he should be the one to save me from it. Naturally, I threatened to use my hacking skills on his grades if he didn't cooperate."

Gesturing for Logan and Veronica to join them at the table, Mac quickly made the introductions. Her date turned out to be one Brian Chan, a Hearst freshman from San Francisco. As they took their seats, Logan realized where he'd seen Brian before.

"Aren't you on the basketball team?" he asked.

"Yeah. My high school was like eighty percent Asian, so I was the freakishly tall guy who always got picked first when we played basketball. Turns out, I was a pretty good baller so here I am," Brian replied. "It's not like playing for the Pac 10 or anything, but it's fun."

Logan and Brian were soon dissecting last week's big game, giving Veronica a chance to huddle with Mac and get the scoop on her date. Glancing over at them, Logan noticed Mac's shining eyes and wide grin. Even he could tell the girl was smitten. Fennell shoots and scores, Logan thought.

"Wait a sec, you're that girl who caught the serial rapist," Brian suddenly exclaimed. "I knew your name sounded familiar."

Logan winced. Barely a week into the fall semester, Veronica had thrown herself into solving yet another mystery after Mac's roommate, Parker, was drugged and raped. She'd been the Hearst rapist's third victim, and like the others, Parker's long, blonde locks had been cruelly shorn from her head.

Veronica had ruthlessly chased suspect after suspect, virtually serving herself up as bait at fraternity parties and bars frequented by Hearst students. It had driven Logan crazy. He groaned remembering the raging battles they'd had whenever he demanded to go with her. Fixing him with a patented Veronica Mars glare, she'd called him a "controlling Neanderthal jackass" among other things. Before they could settle the argument, Veronica had exposed the Hearst rapist, who was now locked in jail awaiting trial.

But it had come at a price. Her nightmares, which had all but ceased, came back full force. Logan knew Veronica still woke in the middle of the night, stifling the screams that were lodged in her throat. Tonight, he couldn't help noticing the dark shadows under her eyes while she studied in the library.

"Yup, that was me," Veronica said, lightly.

"Wow," Brian sounded awed. "The papers said you and your dad are detectives. Do you do this kind of thing regularly? Take people's cases, I mean? The only reason I'm asking is 'cause my roommate might be able to use someone like you."

Logan sighed. He knew Veronica wouldn't be able to resist hearing more. Sure enough, she quickly urged Brian to continue.

"It's nothing too crazy. Jason's adopted and he's been trying to find his birth mother since he got to Hearst. He was born in Neptune, but his adopted father is an admiral in the navy so they basically bounced all over the globe when he was growing up," Brian explained. "Anyway, he hasn't had any luck and it's been months."

"I don't know how much help I can be. If it was a closed adoption, your roommate may have to rely on registries, but I can talk to him and see what I can do," Veronica offered. She scrawled her cell phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Brian. "Tell him to call me."

"Hey, we should get going." Logan nudged Veronica with his elbow and pointed to his watch. "It's almost the witching hour and those angry stares your dad shoots me are starting to give me nightmares."

Later, as Logan drove along the winding coastal highway, he glanced over at Veronica who'd been strangely quiet since leaving Java the Hut. She was staring out at the ocean speeding by and he could see the white light of the moon illuminating her profile. Reaching across the seat, Logan covered Veronica's hand with his, noting the chill in her fingers.

"Hey," Logan said softly. "What are you thinking?"

When Veronica didn't respond, Logan called her name and she turned to face him, shrugging her shoulders. "Nothing, really," she said, evasively. Knowing he wouldn't be satisfied with her answer, Veronica sighed and added, "Just thinking about this new case. Adoptions can be notoriously difficult."

"You found Trina's birth mom," Logan pointed out.

"There was a lot of press surrounding her adoption since she was the Prom Baby and all," Veronica said. "Plus, I did sort of persuade her to sell her story to the tabloids so that kinda helped, too."

"Right." Logan pulled up to Veronica's apartment building and parked the SUV. "So, how many minutes do we have before your dad comes out with a SWAT team?"

Veronica glanced at her watch, grimacing dramatically. "Sorry, sailor. I should go."

Sighing good naturedly Logan got out, opened Veronica's door and they walked to her apartment arm in arm. As they got closer, Logan slowed and gently grasped Veronica's elbow. Leaning back against the building wall, he pulled her towards him and bent his head to kiss her hungrily. Veronica wrapped her arms around Logan's neck, twining her fingers in his hair and pressing close against his lanky body.

Moments later, Logan breathlessly withdrew and softly kissed her forehead. "Are you busy tomorrow night? I was thinking we could catch a show, or something," Logan said, as his thumb brushed her cheek.

"Mmmm…sounds fun, but I promised Piz I'd help him study for our European art final," Veronica said. "He can't tell Van Gogh from Monet, go figure."

Logan stifled the choice words that bubbled to his lips. Wallace's charmingly goofy roommate had been sniffing around Veronica since the day he moved into the dorms and it infuriated Logan. He'd suppressed his urge to punch Piz's lights out only because he knew it would lead to a fight with Veronica. Even tonight's silent protest drew a stern look of warning from her.

"Logan, don't start," Veronica admonished.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Logan answered, his voice dripping innocence. "Call me when you're done?"

Nodding, Veronica gave Logan a quick kiss and turned to go inside. When he called her name, she looked back expectantly.

"I love you," Logan said.

Veronica's lips parted in surprise. After several, long moments, she flashed a small smile then pushed open the door to her apartment and disappeared inside.

In some deep part of his heart, Logan had always known the life he had precariously pieced together with Veronica would come to an inevitable end.

He just didn't think it would unravel because of three little words.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Veronica**

With a gentle push, Veronica eased open the front door and slipped into the apartment, a slight smile lingering on her lips. She closed the door and rested her forehead against the cool glass, letting out a long, shaky breath.

She could still hear Logan's voice, soft and unusually shy, his earnest words inciting an unwanted quickening in her heart.

Logan loved her.

The knowledge warmed her from the inside out, and she'd been on the verge of repeating the sentiment. But, as always, something held her back. Veronica couldn't remember the last time she'd said those words to anyone besides her father. It had probably been Duncan - the first time around, when Lilly was still alive.

_What's wrong with you, Veronica?_ Sighing, she tip-toed across the living room, listening for signs her dad was awake, but pretending not to wait up for her. Satisfied he wasn't, she quietly shut her bedroom door and stripped off her sweater and jeans. She was nestled under the covers moments later.

But sleep eluded Veronica. She lay staring up at the ceiling, her troubled mind drifting through the night's events before settling again on Logan and his quiet declaration. A familiar panic began to creep over her, tempering whatever tiny flutters of joy she'd allowed herself to feel.

It had happened in New York, too. Some time between getting dropped off at the airport and landing at JFK, Veronica had begun to doubt the wisdom of rushing headlong into a relationship with Logan. He was all impulse and heat – traits that steered him straight into drunken fist fights and torrid affairs with married trophy wives. The image of sultry Kendall Casablancas wrapped around Logan kept popping into Veronica's head.

By the time her plane touched down in San Diego a week later, Veronica was convinced she and Logan were a disaster waiting to happen. So she had avoided him for the next two days, ignoring the message he'd left on her first night back. Logan hadn't called again and she'd pretended not to be disappointed.

But on the third day, she'd gone to the supermarket and there, at the check-out stand, was Logan staring up at her from a grainy photo on the cover of a trashy tabloid. His face was an expressionless mask and he was standing alone by a freshly dug grave. "Aaron Echolls buried today by estranged son in private service," the headline had screamed.

It had nearly broken her heart.

Veronica had remembered how Logan enveloped her safely in his arms the night she thought her father had been blown to smithereens, scattered across the night sky. Choking on sobs, she'd buried her face in his t-shirt, crying uncontrollably. "What's going to happen to me, now?" she'd asked.

Logan had drawn her closer to him, and, in a tone both gentle and resolute, said, "Veronica, I know everything is really fucked up right now, but I promise you'll be alright. I swear, no matter what, I'll make sure you're okay."

It was the worst night of Veronica's life, but somehow she'd believed him.

On her third night back from New York, Veronica had knocked on Logan's door. Her heart had twisted at the genuine surprise in his reddened eyes, and she'd tried to ignore the wary way Logan glanced at her, unsure of why she was there.

Later, when they'd settled onto the couch to watch "South Park" she curled herself into the crook of his arms, resting her head on his broad, comforting shoulder until she'd felt his body relax. In the morning, she'd woken up nestled in his arms.

Veronica eventually fell into a fitful sleep, in which she dreamed about a night she could only remember in her subconscious.

_She dreamed of walking down a dark hallway, crowded with the gyrating bodies of people she didn't know, opening door after door until finally reaching the last room. Inside, Duncan and Cassidy looked at her expectantly as though they'd been waiting for her. Veronica turned in terror, running from the house into the cold night._

_I need to find Logan, she thought as she passed through the familiar gates of the Echolls estate. But he didn't answer when she called his name and Veronica found herself wandering through another shadowy house. She approached his bedroom door and twisted the knob._

_Logan lay naked on his bed with Kendall Casablancas writhing beneath him, their bodies crashing together in an erotic tangle of limbs._

_He twisted and looked at her, smirking. "Are you going to answer that?" he asked, as a phone began to ring somewhere off in the distance._

The shrill ringing of her cell phone wrenched Veronica from the dream. She struggled to sit up, her heart pounding violently as she tried to shake the remnants of her nightmarish dreams. Veronica groped for her phone and checked the caller ID. She didn't recognize the number.

"Um, is this Veronica?" The voice on the other end of the line was young, masculine and unfamiliar.

"Guilty as charged," Veronica said, stifling a yawn. "And you are?"

"Hi, my name is Jason. Jason Halsey. You don't know me, but I guess you met my roommate, Brian, last night? He said you might be able to help me find my birth mother. I know it's early, but I was hoping we could get together and talk."

Veronica agreed to meet Jason at his dorm after laying out her fees and terms. An hour later, she was perched on the only clear surface in the tiny room – a corner of a twin bed – sipping a soda. Veronica took in the cluttered surroundings. It was a typical college boy's room. Clothes were strewn about on the furniture while empty pizza boxes and beer bottles littered the floor.

"My dad would have a conniption if he saw this place," Jason said, apologizing for the mess. "He's a career Navy man and our house was always ship shape, hospital bed corners and all. As soon as I went away to school, I became the world's biggest slob."

Veronica laughed, setting the soda can on Jason's desk where an Apple notebook stood next to one of the few personal effects in the room – a single framed photo. A woman in her 50s with wild red curls, round face and kind smile stood next to a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. She was flanked by two lean, fair-haired men, who looked remarkably alike despite what must have been a 30-year age difference.

"These are your adopted parents?" Veronica asked her voice tinged with surprise. "You look a lot like your dad."

"Yeah, I know," Jason said. "It's an old family joke. My parents probably could've passed me off as their biological son, but I've known I was adopted ever since I can remember."

Jason's parents had married young, when his father was still a lowly Navy seaman and they'd spent the first decade of their marriage trying unsuccessfully to conceive a child of their own. Then, as a chief petty officer, Charles Halsey was stationed at the Coronado Naval Base near San Diego, where a family friend, an attorney who specialized in adoptions, found a baby boy for the childless couple.

It was a closed adoption. What little Jason knew about his past came from his birth certificate and the sparse facts his parents' attorney was willing to divulge. Jason was born at Neptune Memorial Hospital on September 12, 1988 to an unwed college student who hadn't wanted any further contact with her newborn son or the couple who adopted him. Within a year, the Halseys had moved yet again, this time overseas.

"Well, I can start with your birth certificate and go from there," Veronica said. "Do you know the name of the attorney your parents used to adopt you?"

Jason promised to get Veronica copies of his birth certificate and adoption papers as he jotted down the attorney's name. He thanked her as she started to leave.

"I could've gone to UCLA, or even Cal, you know? But I chose Hearst because it's in Neptune and my birth mother might've even been a student here," Jason said. "My parents don't know I've been looking for her. I don't want to hurt their feelings, but I just want to know where I come from."

Veronica left Jason's room and crossed the campus quad in search of Mac. It took several loud knocks before the computer whiz answered the door. "Late night?" Veronica asked, trying to suppress a grin.

Mac smiled sheepishly, a faint pink tingeing her cheeks. She offered Veronica a bottle of water before sinking cross-legged onto a futon couch. "We were at The Hut until it closed and afterwards we sat outside the dorms and talked for hours," Mac said, pausing as she chewed her lip. "I think … I actually like this guy. I mean, he's smart, funny. He may be a jock, but he actually knows a lot about computers … Not more than me, but no one's perfect, right?"

Veronica chuckled and punched the other girl playfully on the arm. "You go girl," she said. "Speaking of computer skills – what do you know about hospital record keeping? Would birth records from say, 19 years ago, be on some kind of database you could hack into?"

Mac considered for a moment. "Most physicians and hospitals have all their current records online to streamline everything they do. For example, doctors can access patients' test results or x-rays in mere seconds with just a click of a mouse, instead of waiting for someone to send over the paperwork," she explained. "But I doubt those records go back more than a few years. Why?"

"Brian's roommate called me bright and early this morning and it's not going to be easy to track down his bio mom," Veronica said. "The good news is he was born right here at Neptune Memorial. I was hoping you could work your magic on their system, but now it looks like I'm going to have to come up with a plan B."

The room phone began to ring and Veronica waved a quick goodbye as Mac answered it. The rest of Veronica's weekend passed in a blur. She picked up an extra shift at the library and wound up spending ten mind-numbing hours re-shelving Hearst's entire Russian literature section. In between, she squeezed in a quick b&e at the offices of Stuart M. Giles Esquire to sneak a peek at Jason's adoption file, then spent a few hours studying with Piz. Afterwards, she tumbled exhausted into bed forgetting she'd promised to call Logan.

That night Veronica dreamed about the rape again. When she woke trembling with fright, she couldn't shake the fuzzy images of Duncan, Cassidy and … Logan … looming threateningly over her. She hugged her arms to her chest and took several deep breaths to slow the thudding in her chest.

Logan's regular appearance was a disturbing new twist to her nightmares. They'd started again in the fall, when she was deep into the serial rapist investigation. Only now, seven months later, they seemed to be growing in frequency and intensity. Veronica realized with a start that Logan's part in her nighttime terrors began when the dreams had resumed – on Halloween.

Veronica had been running late that morning and to make matters worse, she'd left some notes she needed at Logan's hotel suite. She'd dug in her bag while hurrying out of the elevator and down the hall, grunting in triumph when her fingers finally grasped the smooth plastic of the key card he'd given her weeks before.

She'd called his name before remembering that he had a 9 a.m. English comp class. She had taken it as a good sign that Logan wasn't there and quickly located her notes scattered alongside the bed, where they'd been abandoned in favor of less academic pursuits.

Just the memory of Logan's tender touch had made Veronica's body thrum.

The night before, she'd gone in search of a study snack and found, to her delight, a pint of Phish Food in the mini-bar fridge. Absently, she'd considered the irony; when she'd dated Duncan, he'd stocked the suite with ice cream for her, too. But as she plunged a spoon into the frozen treat, little details had clicked into place and realization had slowly seeped into her consciousness.

She'd given Duncan too much credit – and Logan not enough. It was Logan who'd quietly left pints of her favorite ice cream in the suite, even while they'd been at each other's throats, taking verbal swipes at each other every chance they could.

That night for the first time, as Logan stroked her skin and trailed heated kisses up and down her body, Veronica had dared to think that she could be falling in love with him.

She'd left the Neptune Grande with her notes and was still smiling hours later, when her wake up call came in the form of a stocky, former bike gang leader. She'd bumped into Weevil coming out of her sociology exam and he hadn't minced words when he learned she was dating Logan again.

"What makes you think you'll be any different than Lilly?" Weevil had asked. "You're the detective. You should know, once a cheater, always a cheater. Haven't you ever wondered why she kept dumping his ass?" Weevil had walked away after that parting shot, leaving Veronica standing in the campus quad, a terrible dread settling in her heart.

Later, while sipping beer at a Halloween party in the dorms, Mac had broken the news that the campus rapist had struck again. The nightmares had come back that night, and with the ensuing uproar over the latest rape, Veronica had completely forgotten about her run-in with Weevil.

Veronica was sitting on a bench in the quad, reading Professor Landry's book and enjoying the warm spring sun, when a shadow darkened the pages. She looked up to see Logan, towering above her and suppressed a chill as the image from her latest nightmare came to mind unbidden.

"Hey, gorgeous," Logan said, plopping down next to her and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

She turned and smiled at him, feeling absurdly pleased by his casual endearment. She snapped her book shut and replied, "Hey, yourself. Sorry I didn't call the other night. I was pretty beat so I crashed early."

Veronica met Logan's worried gaze, silently wishing she hadn't mentioned her exhaustion. He reached over and gently stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "More bad dreams?" he asked.

She nodded and glanced away. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Logan was silent, but Veronica knew he would try to prod her into saying more so she quickly cut him off. "About Saturday, I was thinking we could get to the museum early. Then we'd have the rest of the day to hang out in L.A. What do you think?"

The concerned look on Logan's face turned to confusion then guilt. "Oh shit, Veronica. I totally forgot. The thing is, I sorta promised Dick and Mercer I'd go with them to Mexico this weekend and we're supposed to leave Friday. Can we do the museum thing some other time?"

Veronica rolled her eyes, but said nothing, the irritation showing plainly on her face. "Don't you have classes on Friday?" she said. Logan shrugged making Veronica's temper flare.

"By all means, forget useless courses like econ and psych. Clearly, you're bound and determined to major in millionaire playboy with a minor in gambling. Seriously, Logan, you might as well throw your money away." Veronica stood and stalked off before Logan had a chance to respond.

Veronica had cleared her schedule to spend the weekend with Logan, so when Sunday rolled around she found herself with no papers to write or exams to cram for, and plenty of free time. Might as well try to make some headway on that adoption case, and I can't do that without my trusty sidekick, she thought, heading to the dorms.

Wallace, however, was nowhere to be found. Instead, Piz appeared to be rocking out in front of the television, a fake guitar grasped in his hands as he bobbed his head violently. "Indulging in those rock star fantasies again, Piz?" Veronica greeted Wallace's roommate.

"Oh my god, I'm having a total blast. Have you ever played this thing? You should definitely check it out. It's like being a rock star without having to possess any talent whatsoever. Totally cool," Piz gushed.

Veronica looked at him skeptically. "Let me get this straight. You're in a band that plays on actual guitars in front of a real live audience, right? So why play a computer game that only simulates something you are actually capable of doing?"

"Did you not hear me say it's a total blast?"

"I will never understand boys and their video games," Veronica said. "Do you know where Wallace is? I'm working on something and need his help."

"He had a study date with a cute sister he met last weekend. What do you need? Are you working on a case? I can help. Use me. I insist."

Veronica considered for a few moments, before saying, "Well, I do need someone to create a distraction, and you're definitely - distracting."

A half hour later, Veronica pulled into the Neptune Memorial parking lot, choosing a space close to the rear exit. The appallingly thin adoption file she'd procured from the attorney had produced a single name – Jennifer Grant. So far, Veronica had found 89 Jennifer Grants in Neptune alone.

But something had been a little off about the file she'd found in the attorney's office. All the other cases in the file cabinets, even the closed adoptions, had been much thicker, stuffed with medical records for both mother and child, receipts for doctor visits, and hospital stays as well as insurance information and copies of cashed checks. The only document in Jason's file was a 10-page adoption agreement with his birth mother's name and age.

Veronica knew she needed to get a look at those hospital records. Lucky for her, Mac knew a nursing student who volunteered regularly at Neptune Memorial. Getting information out of her had been a snap. Now, Veronica just had to sneak past the security guard and she'd be golden. That's where Piz came in.

"So you know what you're supposed to do, right?" Veronica quizzed as they slipped into the hospital and made their way to the basement.

"Yeah, sure. Piece of cake. This is gonna be – "

"I know, a total blast," Veronica finished for him, shaking her head and smiling. She slipped into a nearby restroom and cracked open the door, as Piz made his way to the security office guarding the entrance to the records room.

Veronica gave Piz a few minutes to launch his cover story and draw the security guard away from his post, then eased out of her hiding place and headed towards the locked door at the end of the hall. She keyed in the security code she got from Mac and quietly shut the door behind her, quickly locating the ancient computer in a corner of the basement. "Piece of cake is right," Veronica said under her breath, typing Jennifer Grant's name into the electronic catalog.

Moments later, she was frowning as she examined the results of her search. There were plenty of Jennifer Grants who'd been patients at the hospital, but none of them had given birth to a baby boy on September 12, 1988. Veronica tried another search and found that three babies had been born at Neptune Memorial that day – a girl weighing 6 pounds 2 ounces, a boy named Vincent Chang and an unnamed, Caucasian male.

Bingo, Veronica thought, as she located the paper records in a nearby file cabinet and quickly scanned the pages. She soon realized why she hadn't been able to find anything under Jennifer Grant. Jason's hospital record listed a completely different woman as his birth mother – a 19-year-old named Maya Nyland.

Veronica went back to the computer and after finding Maya Nyland's records, made copies of both files. She pressed her ear to the door, listening for Piz or the security guard. Hearing nothing, she retreated hastily and made her way back to the parking lot where Piz was already waiting by her car.

"That was freaking awesome" Piz said, later, his mouth full of pizza. They'd stopped at the campus food court, where they'd been huddling at a table for a couple of hours, talking, laughing and swapping Wallace stories. Veronica found herself enjoying the easy camaraderie with Wallace's affable roommate. Piz was sweet and laid back and so uncomplicated.

"So did this little covert spy game of yours do the trick? Have you solved the case?" Piz asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"I'm not sure," she said as she reached for one of the files. High pitched giggles from a table next to theirs caused Veronica to look up. Two girls wearing work-out clothes were slurping smoothies and squealing about some party they'd gone to Friday night. Veronica rolled her eyes and started to turn back to the file when she heard a familiar name.

"Did you see Christina hanging all over Logan Echolls?" one of the girls asked.

"Noooo! Oh my god! He is _such_ a hottie. I had, like, the biggest crush on his dad when I was in junior high and Logan is way cuter than Aaron," the other girl said. "So did she hook up with him?"

"Well, I don't know for sure, but he did leave the party early, right around the time I lost track of Christina …" her voice trailed off and the pair burst into another fit of giggles.

Veronica stood abruptly, ignoring the startled look on Piz's face as she rapidly gathered the files and stuffed them into her bag. "I've gotta go," she said. "Thanks for your help."

For the next few weeks, Veronica threw herself into her studies and the case, leaving little time to spend with Logan, which suited her just fine. Her first impulse had been to track down her wayward boyfriend in Mexico and confront him, until she realized how thin the evidence was. And hadn't he just told her he loved her? Still, Veronica refused to believe love was blind. She'd sworn long ago that she would never be one of those clueless women who blissfully ignored all the signs of infidelity.

Meanwhile, she had an actual case to solve. On a hunch, she did some digging and managed to wrap up all the details just days before final exams started. She called Jason and told him she had news, arranging to meet him at his dorm.

"Your birth mother's name is Maya Nyland Whitcomb," Veronica said. "She's an artist, a pretty successful one at that with a gallery right here in downtown Neptune. She's happily married to a history professor at San Diego State and they have two young children – a boy and a girl."

Jason gaped at her. "Oh my god. This is great. I can't believe you came up with all this stuff."

"There's more," Veronica said, softly. "Did you know you and your adopted father have the same, extremely rare blood type? Then there's the startling resemblance."

Jason stared at Veronica, puzzled, so she pushed ahead. "You were right. When Maya Nyland got pregnant, she was a student at Hearst. To make ends meet, she worked in the student activities office. The same office where Navy recruiters from Coronado had a cubicle. Did you know your dad was a recruiter?"

Jason shook his head slowly. "What are you saying?" he asked.

"I'm saying, I think Charles Halsey, the man who adopted you, is actually your biological father," she said. "He had an affair with Maya Nyland and when she got pregnant, he offered to adopt the baby. His family friend, the attorney, helped him hide your mother's true identity in order to cover up the affair."

Jason stood and paced the small room, stopping suddenly when his gaze fell on the framed photo of his family. He picked it up, staring at it for several, long moments. "I should've known," he finally said. "I can't believe I didn't see it."

Veronica gave him a sympathetic look and placed a file on his desk before slipping out of the room. With a sigh, she made her way to the food court hoping to get a bite before her next class. She was surveying the crowded dining area when she spotted Logan. A girl with long, perfectly curled brown hair sat across from him, picking daintily at a salad as she chatted excitedly.

Taking a deep breath, Veronica walked over. Her hardened gaze faltered slightly as Logan looked up, his face breaking into a wide grin when he saw her. "Hi, babe," he said, standing to kiss her. "Christina, this is my girlfriend, Veronica. Veronica, meet Christina. We were just trading notes for our psych final."

Veronica smiled half-heartedly, nodding at the curvy brunette. The next half hour consisted of stilted conversation punctuated by awkward silences. Veronica forced herself to eat the turkey sandwich she'd bought even while her stomach burned. She checked her watch and said, "I have to run to class. It was nice meeting you, Christina."

Later that night, Veronica was alone in her apartment when she heard a knock at the door. She immediately recognized Logan's tall silhouette through the bamboo shades and let him in.

"Is your dad home?" he asked. When she shook her head, Logan reached up to cup her face in his hands and kissed her hungrily. "Where have you been? I've missed you," he whispered, his lips leaving hers to press light kisses along her neck.

"Really? I'm surprised. From the look of things, you've managed to find all sorts of new friends who seem more than willing to keep you company."

Logan sighed wearily. "Veronica, Christina is just a friend. I'm not the least bit interested in her. You know you're the only one I want to be with." When she didn't respond, he gently brushed stray hairs from her face and asked, "What's been going on with you lately, Veronica? For weeks you've either been picking fights, or avoiding me. Does this have anything to do with those nightmares you've been having?"

"I – I don't know," she said, startled.

Logan stepped back and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Maybe … you should think about talking to someone about them, someone professional, like a counselor or something."

Veronica huffed and rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to spend good money to see a shrink, just so you can get laid, Logan." Instantly, she regretted her harsh words and she looked up to meet his gaze.

Hurt and anger sparked in his eyes. "That's not what I meant and you know it," he said in a cold, low voice as he left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

The silent stalemate lasted for days, neither one willing to make amends. In the end, Logan was the first to reach out. But with Christina's buxom figure still fresh in her mind, Veronica ignored the message he left on her cell phone.

The night she and Piz took their European Art final, they ended up at a party in the dorms. It was her last exam and she felt a little celebration was in order to commemorate surviving her first year of college. Veronica realized she was probably celebrating a little too much when couldn't stop giggling at something Piz said.

He was standing close, his face just inches away and before she knew what was happening, he bent his head and pressed his lips against hers. At first, the kiss was sweet and pleasant, and Veronica reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.

Almost immediately, she knew she'd made a horrible mistake, but the alcohol slowed her reflexes. She'd barely begun to pull back when someone wrenched Piz away, a sharp crack sounding as a fist connected violently with Piz's face.

"I guess we broke up," Logan said, before storming out into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Logan**

Logan's hand throbbed.

It ached like hell, too, and was already starting to swell, but it had been worth it. Logan

had half a mind to turn the car around, hunt Piz down and kick the fucking dork's ass all the way back to Beaverton.

The memory of Piz's hands and mouth on Veronica burned in his brain. But it was the image of those slender, familiar arms reaching up in response that provoked the sharp pain in Logan's chest.

Remorse and anger had been eating away at Logan since he'd charged out of Veronica's apartment the night of their big fight. He'd hated the way they'd left things so after several days, he'd finally given in and called her. When Veronica didn't return his message, he went looking for her at Wallace's dorm.

_How could he have been so stupid?_ For weeks he'd known something was bugging her, but he never once considered she was sweet on Piz. Fucking. Piz. Logan felt the rage boil up and he slammed his hand violently against the steering wheel.

He needed a drink – badly. Logan jerked the wheel abruptly and tires squealed as the black SUV veered around a sharp corner. Moments later, he pulled up in front of a popular Hearst hangout. He chose a dark, corner booth and proceeded to get rip-roaring drunk.

"Hey, aren't you Aaron Echolls' kid?"

Logan barely glanced up from his shot glass, downing the tequila and ignoring the preppy frat boy in a turquoise polo shirt.

"You are, aren't you? Hey guys, we've got a celebrity in our modest little watering hole." Pretty in Turquoise pulled out a cell phone and aimed it at Logan. "Say, 'cheese.'"

Logan leaped up, tipping over his empty glass, and with his good hand gripped the James Spader wannabe by his artfully turned up collar. "Don't even think about it," Logan hissed, before shoving the guy roughly into a chair. The other fraternity brothers stood and started menacingly towards Logan.

"What seems to be the trouble, boys?"

Shit. Logan groaned to himself. Even through his tequila-induced haze, he immediately recognized the amicably authoritative voice of Keith Mars. He turned towards Veronica's father and raised his hand in a wobbly salute. "Look, it's the Sheriff," he said.

Turquoise Polo Shirt raised his camera phone again, pointing it towards Logan, who moved to hit him. But Keith's arm shot forward effectively blocking Logan. He glanced over his shoulder at the would-be photographer and said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, son." Then Keith grasped Logan by the arm and hauled him out of the bar.

Outside, Logan dug in his pocket for his keys, which Keith quickly snatched from him. "There's no way I'm letting you drive, Logan," he said, steering the young man towards his sedan. "Get in. I'm taking you home."

If the former sheriff was anything like his daughter, Logan knew it was useless to resist. He slouched down in the front seat, and rested his spinning head on the cold glass window, closing his eyes.

"Do you want to tell me what you were doing at that bar, Logan?" Keith asked, breaking the silence.

"What college guys usually do in bars." Logan paused then added, "I just needed to let off some steam."

"By getting into a fight?"

"Hey, he started it," Logan grumbled. "I was just minding my own business … What were you doing there, anyway? It doesn't exactly strike me as your kind of hangout."

"The owner hired me to find out who's been stealing cash from the till."

They passed the rest of the drive in silence until a few minutes later when Keith pulled up to the Neptune Grande. He held out Logan's keys and turned to him. "A word of advice? Drunken brawls are not the way to Veronica's heart, or mine. I suggest you shape up, or you won't be seeing much of my daughter."

Logan let out a short, mirthless laugh. "The good news? Dreams really do come true, Mr. Mars. Veronica and I broke up," he said, getting out of the car and walking away.

The next morning a ringing phone woke Logan. He sat up and groaned at the pounding in his head, blindly reaching for the phone. He missed and hit his still aching hand on the nightstand. "Shit!" he shouted in the empty suite. He grabbed the phone, punching the talk button.

"What?" he growled.

"A good morning to you, too, Logan. I see you're up bright and early, bushy tail and all." The overly cheerful voice of his attorney Cliff McCormack rang in his ears reminding Logan he had a splitting headache on top of the stinging pain in his hand.

"Sorry. Bad night. What's up, Cliff?"

"We need to talk about your parents' estate. Do you have time later today?"

"I don't get it. What's to talk about? I'm getting checks from both trust funds they set up."

"Not the trust funds, their estate. As in their homes in Neptune, L.A., Lake Tahoe - need I go on? I've been getting inquiries about your old house and apparently someone's interested in buying the Tahoe property, too. There's also a little matter of the storage facility with your mother's belongings and everything salvaged from the fire," Cliff paused. "It's been almost a year, Logan."

Sighing, Logan rubbed his head and agreed to meet Cliff. They spent two hours going over the lengthy list of property and assets that were the sum total of his parents' marriage. In the nearly 20 years they'd been together, Aaron and Lynn Echolls had accumulated pages of priceless paintings, multi-million dollar homes and expensive luxury cars. They'd had everything a young couple could possibly want - except love. Logan grimly wondered if his parents had ever been happy.

As he flipped page after page, Logan's anger mounted until he finally shoved the documents away, scattering papers across the long conference table. He stood and, gesturing to his parents' file, said, "Sell it all. I don't care."

"What about your mother's things?" Cliff asked.

"I'll deal with that later."

Cliff studied his brooding client. "Do you know if there are any personal belongings left at the Tahoe house? I'll have to get someone to clear everything out before we can sell it."

Logan nodded. "I'll take care of it," he said, considering for a moment. "Actually, hold off on selling the cabin for now. I might want to keep it. I'll let you know soon, one way or another."

Ever since he'd woken up that morning, Logan had wondered what his next move would be. He desperately wanted to get out of Neptune, dreading the thought of running into Veronica, or worse, seeing her with Piz. His mom had always loved the house along Lake Tahoe's shores: It had been her haven from the hectic pace of living in the Hollywood spotlight. Now, Logan figured it would be his haven, too.

He left Cliff's office and headed back to the hotel to pack. He was nearly finished when he opened a dresser drawer and saw the corner of a neatly wrapped jeweler's box, peeking out from under a pile of shirts where he'd hidden it. Logan swore under his breath, picking up the box and fingering the white, satin ribbon. It was the anniversary present he'd bought for Veronica on an impulse weeks ago, back when he thought they'd actually make it to their one-year milestone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The day after his library study date with Veronica, he'd met Trina in San Diego, where they'd eaten lunch in a swanky Solano Beach bistro. Afterwards, she'd made him wait while she ducked into some trendy, ultra-pricey boutique. He'd been leaning against the storefront window, bored out of his mind, when the necklace caught his eye.

It was a simple, white gold disk, roughly the size of a nickel, dangling from a delicate chain. Three tiny diamonds bordered a hand-etched crescent moon and the light glinted off the gems, making them look like twinkling stars.

Logan had instantly thought of Veronica. It was just like her – beautiful and whimsical, but not garish or over-the-top. He'd known she would love it, so he quickly shelled out a small fortune for what the gushing sales clerk swore was a one-of-a-kind piece.

He'd left the store chuckling to himself about rodents and romance.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Logan's heart twisted at the memory and he tossed the box back the drawer, slamming it shut. Twenty minutes later, his bag packed and loaded into the SUV, he was on his way to Hearst. He had one last paper to drop off before he could leave town, giving him the entire summer to decide his future. As he strode across the nearly deserted campus he noticed the assistant dean, a statuesque older woman, standing near a construction site. Earlier that year, crews had razed an old classroom building and now they were beginning to grade the land.

Morgan Kennedy had overlooked Logan's lukewarm high school grades, helping him to enroll at Hearst. He'd suspected hopes of a hefty donation from the Echolls trust fund had more to do with it than the kindness of her heart, but she had yet to approach him. Logan nodded in greeting as he passed her, but she didn't seem to notice as she watched a bulldozer scraping the ground.

He bumped into one other person before he left Hearst that day. Logan, eager to hit the road, was rushing out of the psychology building when he collided with Mac. "Oh shit. Sorry, Mac," he said, holding out a hand to steady her. He peered at Veronica's friend and noticed the girl's reddened, downcast eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked, as they moved to a nearby bench.

"Yeah, just having a bad day," Mac said. "Boy troubles."

"That guy Brian? He seemed cool."

"He is. He actually is. It's not him, it's me. I'm totally fucked up," she said, miserably.

"Hm, I don't know anyone who isn't."

Mac laughed. "That's actually kind of comforting. Sad, but comforting."

"Glad to be of help." Logan paused, then added, "Your boy troubles – they don't have anything to do with Cassidy, do they?" When Mac didn't say anything, Logan sat back and sighed.

"For what it's worth, Brian seemed to really like you, Mac. So if you have the chance to be happy with someone, why not go for it?" he said. Mac stared at Logan and he squirmed, realizing how movie-of-the-week his little speech sounded. "Then again, what the hell do I know? Trust me, I'm the last person you want to take relationship advice from."

"No," Mac said. "That was really – sweet. And helpful, actually … I have to go." She stood and picked up her bag, before turning back to him. "Thanks, Logan."

He nodded and gave a small smile as she hurried away. At least someone has a shot at a happy ending, he thought as he pointed his SUV north, heading for Lake Tahoe. Two hours later, Logan was creeping through L.A. traffic when his cell phone rang and Veronica's name popped up on the caller id screen. He turned the phone off, lobbing it onto the passenger's seat.

All day long his thoughts had careened from one extreme to the next. Everything had been going so well he couldn't understand how it had fallen apart so quickly and right under his nose. He hadn't even been aware it was happening until it was all over. Logan groaned remembering how he'd laid his heart on the line, declaring his love for Veronica right there on her front porch for all the world to see and hear.

She never loved me, he realized. All those months, he'd been blissfully falling in love with her, not even noticing she wasn't taking the plunge along with him. Was I just a placeholder until someone better came along, he wondered. _What the hell do I care? If she wants Duncan's dweebie clone, fine by me._

Logan swiped his eyes with his sleeve and eased the SUV off the freeway, pulling into a gas station.

After stopping at a grocery store for food and supplies, it was well past midnight by the time Logan turned into the long, wooded driveway of his family's lakeside vacation home. Exhausted, he dumped his bag by the door and went to the kitchen to heat a can of soup. He soon fell into a dreamless sleep on the living room couch.

The next morning, his muscles still aching from the long drive, Logan decided to take a swim in the lake to clear his head and work out the kinks in his body. But he'd forgotten how chilling the water was after years of living in southern California, where the ocean was considerably warmer than the melted snow that ran into Lake Tahoe. Logan emerged sputtering from the emerald waters, his extremities numb and tinged a slight blue. He quickly wrapped himself in a towel and sat on the patio deck overlooking the lake. It occurred to him that he'd seen his mom lounging peacefully in the exact same spot on countless occasions.

Aaron had seldom joined them at the lake. Despite the casinos and nightclubs all along the Nevada shore, Tahoe lacked the glitz and glamour of Vegas and unlike Beverly Hills or Hollywood there weren't any paparazzi to immortalize his image.

Logan hadn't been to the Craftsman-style lake house in years and it was here that he felt his mother's presence for the first time since her death. Although he'd always liked the cozy bungalow situated between a forest of evergreens and the icy, blue-green lake, he usually preferred being close to the ocean. There was something about the wild rhythm of the surf crashing onto land that appealed to him. But now, like his mother, Logan found solace in the sound of water lapping gently against the shore.

He spent several days going through each room, sifting through his family's belongings. He unearthed Trina's abandoned Boys II Men CDs, fashion magazines from the late '90s and a dozen or so cheesy, teenage romance novels. When he stumbled on a box of his old X-Men comic books, Logan passed a lazy afternoon stretched out on the deck getting reacquainted with his boyhood heroes. The next day, however, he discovered that while his ancient Nintendo games still worked, they just weren't much fun anymore.

He tackled his parents' room last and was surprised to find how much his mother had kept at their vacation home. Her closets were filled with clothes that he carefully folded and boxed. There were also books and photo albums, along with several filled sketchpads. He'd forgotten his mom used to draw.

His mother's little touches were apparent throughout the room, a stark contrast to their fashionable home in Neptune, which had been all glass and sharp angles. Here at the lake house, a worn afghan lay across the wooden rocking chair that she'd loved to sit and read in. Family photos, not stylized publicity shots, sat in frames decorating her vanity table and shelves.

The room even smelled of her favorite perfume and as he inhaled his mother's scent, Logan was filled with longing for something he wasn't sure he'd ever had. Wearily, he wrapped himself in the afghan and fell asleep curled on her side of the bed.

In the end, most of the stuff he found Logan threw in boxes and hauled to a Salvation Army thrift store, while arranging to donate his mother's clothes to a women's shelter. But he kept the comics, photo albums and Lynn's sketches.

Over the next month-and-a-half, Logan fell into an easy routine. His days were spent swimming or boating on the lake, a couple of times he'd even gone fishing. At night, he drove into town and gambled or hung out in clubs, staying out until the early morning hours. He became restless in the evenings and didn't like spending them alone at the lake house because it gave him too much time to think about Veronica.

Of course, he thought of her constantly, anyway.

She called a few more times, but he ignored the buzzing cell phone. Later, fortified by alcohol, he listened to her messages over and over again, simply because he missed the sound of her voice. Once, he nearly dialed Veronica's number, but hesitated when it began to feel all too familiar. Logan had always gone crawling back to Lilly, no matter what she'd done.

In a fit of rage, he threw the phone across the room, shattering the flimsy plastic. It was his own fault, really, Logan thought. He'd pinned far too many hopes on Veronica, daring to think she could love him when he should've remembered who he was. It was, after all, a lesson her best friend had taught him years ago.

He picked up the pieces of his broken phone and threw them in the trash. That afternoon he bought a new one, changed his number and resolved to quit moping over Veronica. He'd gotten over her once before, he could do it again.

Then one day late in July, Logan found something that brought an unexpected comfort.

He was searching for a blanket when he noticed the window seat in his parents' room was also a storage bench. He lifted the lid and, peering inside, found more photos, a scrapbook, loose papers and what looked like an antique, wooden writing chest.

The box was filled with childish drawings, cards made of fading construction paper and at the bottom there was a clay impression of a small hand. Startled, Logan realized the crayon illustrations were his. As he stared, memories of proudly presenting them to his mom began to resurface. He also recognized the handprint as his own – a souvenir from a kindergarten class project.

Logan had long ago accepted that his childhood had been far from normal. While the other kids he knew were busy with Little League games and Cub Scout den meetings, he'd been paraded from one celebrity event to another. The endless galas, movie premiers and red carpet award ceremonies had made him the envy of his friends, but Logan knew better.

The night before Aaron won his first Golden Globe, Logan had accidentally spilled grape juice on the engraved, ivory invitation. That little spill had earned him a brutal whipping that ended only when he passed out.

When People magazine came to do a cover story on Hollywood's golden couple, he'd unknowingly run through the living room, with Duncan following close behind, the two of them screaming at the tops of their lungs. He still had scars from that moment of boyish exuberance.

Through it all, Logan had smiled for the cameras while hiding his injuries and biting back cries of pain. His classmates had oohed and ahhed over his famous parents, but he'd think of the beatings and secretly wish he was the one going to some boring piano recital. Gradually, he'd learned to harden his heart to useless sentimentality and had buried the memories.

But now, Logan felt something inside him break as he scanned his drawings – all childish depictions of their non-existent perfect family. He never knew his mom had so carefully preserved his artwork and the long-ago gestures of love reached out through time, taking hold of Logan's heart. As tears slipped down his cheeks, it slowly dawned on Logan that despite all the anguish his existence has caused, his mother had loved him.

Later, Logan closed the chest, picking up the scrapbook of press clippings from Aaron's early career, before the breakthrough movie that made him a star. As Logan packed everything into a box, a photo slipped out of the album and he bent to pick it up.

It was a picture of Aaron with several people Logan didn't recognize, but they were standing in front of a Spanish-style building that was very familiar to him – the Hearst library. In the photo, Aaron appeared to be around Logan's age now. Puzzled, Logan couldn't remember his father ever talking about going to college, let alone being a student at Hearst.

He started to look through the other photos, when his ringing phone interrupted him.

"Congratulations, Logan," Cliff said when he answered. "The houses in Neptune and L.A. have buyers. One of them is interested in the Tahoe place, too. Have you decided if you're going to sell it?"

Logan paused, gazing out the window onto the shimmering lake before appraising the room that bore so much of his mother's mark. "I'm keeping it," he said.

"Well, there are papers for you to sign. How soon can you be back?"

He hung up a few minutes later and began to pack, carefully adding the writing chest and scrapbook to the rest of the mementos he'd saved. The next morning, he woke up and took one last swim in the freezing lake waters before getting in the SUV and reluctantly heading back home to Neptune.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Veronica**

From her perch behind the help desk, Veronica restlessly drummed her fingers on the dark wood counter, scanning the nearly deserted. It was a few weeks into the summer and she was about halfway through yet another deadly dull work shift. Even with a computer terminal, there was only so much web surfing a girl could do when: a) she didn't have any classes and b) there weren't any cases to solve.

She considered checking her email for the two hundredth time, when a muffled noise prompted her to look up. The only person in the library was Moe, Wallace's resident advisor, sitting ramrod straight at one of the long study tables, reading a book and sipping from a thermos of hot tea.

And now, he's got his finger up his nose, Veronica thought, as she stared, mesmerized. _I think I can actually hear him picking his nose. _She suppressed a laugh, automatically reaching for her cell phone, fingers poised to call Logan. Veronica was still grinning when she remembered.

Logan was gone – and it was all her fault.

That disastrous night, after helping Piz to his feet, and making sure he hadn't broken any bones, Veronica had gone looking for Logan. Keith was waiting up for her when, hours later, she slipped into the apartment, exhausted from the fruitless search. Gently, he told her about breaking up the near brawl and delivering Logan safely to the Grande. "Let him sleep it off, honey," Keith had said, when he saw Veronica was about to leave again. "Why don't you wait until tomorrow to go see him."

She'd been regretting her hesitation ever since. The next morning, Logan was gone and all she'd managed to get out of a hung-over Dick was that Logan had split town. "Shouldn't you be used to it by now, Ronnie? You have a talent for chasing off rich boyfriends," he'd sneered.

Panicked, she'd called Logan's cell phone, but his voicemail picked up after several rings. Her tears finally came as she'd listened to his solemn, deep voice reciting the inspirational message of the day. "Love is a power too strong to be overcome by anything but flight. Miguel de Cervantes. Leave a message."

She'd sputtered something about being sorry and wanting to make sure he was okay. But that had been weeks ago, and was only one of many messages he ignored over the course of the summer. Then, abruptly, Logan had changed his number, effectively cutting off all communication. Of course, she'd already tracked his credit card purchases and knew he was staying at his parents' cabin on Elks Point at Lake Tahoe.

Dispirited, Veronica was wondering about the significance of the "sold" sign she'd seen in front of Logan's old house, when someone approached the counter.

"It's Veronica, right? I didn't know you worked here."

She looked up to see Christina, the tall, curvaceous brunette from Logan's psychology class. The one who'd allegedly been "hanging all over" him in Mexico. "Um, yeah. That's me. Can I help you with something?"

"Oh, no. I was just returning some books. Although … do you happen to know where Logan is? It's just that, I think I left my sweater in his car and I was really hoping to get it back," Christina said. "Oh god, that sounded …"

"Slutty?" Veronica supplied, cringing at the obvious jealousy in her voice. "I have no idea where Logan is."

Christina arched her perfectly plucked eyebrows, mouth open in surprise. "O-kay…" She paused, then quickly added, "Look, it's not what it sounds like. Logan and I were at the same party in Mexico a while back and I got totally wasted. He found me puking in the bushes, so he gave me a ride to my hotel. That's all it was, I swear."

An embarrassed flush crawled up Veronica's neck, and she mentally slapped herself for jumping to conclusions, yet again. "Wow, that 'slutty' comment suddenly seems wildly inappropriate. I'm sorry. I don't know what possessed me," she said.

Christina laughed. "Well, I wouldn't be too sorry if I were you. It's not like I didn't try anything. But, just so you know, he turned me down flat. Said he had a girlfriend. Of course, I should've known. The good ones are always taken."

Veronica was heartsick.

She'd been haunted by her own insecurities and so convinced Logan would be unfaithful that in the end, she betrayed him. Now, at night, when she tossed listlessly in her bed, it wasn't from nightmares. Instead, she couldn't stop remembering the terrible hurt in Logan's warm, brown eyes the moment he saw her kissing Piz.

Veronica sighed, glancing at the clock and noting her shift had officially ended fifteen minutes ago. She logged off the library computer and gathered her things to leave. Christina's revelation had brought a fresh wave of guilt, and made the ache of Logan's absence even more acute.

Feeling blue, Veronica decided to stop by Mac's house before going home. Hopefully, Mac would be back from her family's extended camping trip; maybe we could grab dinner and catch up, she thought. Mrs. Mackenzie let Veronica inside and gestured towards the hallway. "Cindy is in her room with a friend," she said. No one answered when Veronica knocked, so she tried again, a little harder this time. Moments later, the door swung open.

"Veronica. Hi." A breathless Mac stood before her, hair mussed and blouse slightly askew. Veronica took in Mac's disheveled appearance, puzzled. Until she noticed Brian, scrambling off the bed.

"Oh my god," Veronica began. "I'm so sorry. Your mom said you … Um, I should go."

"No wait," Brian said, an embarrassed smile on his face. "Stay. I have to get going anyway."

She looked away as Brian kissed Mac goodbye, turning to her friend as soon as the gangly basketball player had gone. Mac was grinning and Veronica couldn't help laughing. "I thought you said you weren't going to see him anymore," she teased.

"I wasn't, but then a funny thing happened on the way to the forum. I ran into Logan. He gave me some advice – really good advice, actually and it basically totally changed my mind."

"Why? What did he say?"

"Just that if you have a chance to find happiness with someone, you shouldn't turn away," Mac answered. "Absurdly simple, yet utterly profound, don't you think?"

Veronica stared at Mac. "Logan said that?"

"I know! Who knew Logan Echolls - the Himbo of Neptune High, voted Jackass of the Week - would turn out to be a … romantic." Instantly, Mac realized her mistake. "Oh god, Veronica. I'm such an idiot. Sometimes I forget that Logan is your boyfriend."

"Was my boyfriend - we sort of broke up. It was my fault." Veronica shrugged at Mac's surprised expression and let out a dismal chuckle. "It's okay. It couldn't have lasted, right? I mean, in what alternate universe do Logan and I make sense? I've lost track of how many times we've broken up. Not to mention he's my dead, best friend's on-again-off-again boyfriend and my fugitive ex-boyfriend's best friend. Crazy, huh?"

Mac smiled wanly and put a comforting hand on Veronica's arm. "Well, anyway, who am I to talk," she said. "I'm a computer hacker and I'm going steady with the basketball team's shooting guard who can write coding almost as elegant as mine. And I still don't know what a 'shooting guard' is."

"Do you care?" Veronica asked, chuckling.

Mac laughed. "Not really, no."

A couple of weeks later, Veronica was in line at the food court, trying to grab a snack before work, when she spotted Piz. He was alone, slouched in a chair, scarfing down a slice of pizza. She hadn't seen him since the night they kissed. She considered slipping away while the getting was good, but figured an explanation was long overdue. Resigned, she paid for her food and strode over to his table. "Shouldn't you be in Brigadoon for the summer?"

"Oh. Hey, Veronica," Piz gulped, sitting up and quickly wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Um, yeah. I should be. But I got this sweet internship for one of the local radio stations, so I decided to stick around for the summer. What are you doing here? I haven't seen much of you lately."

"I have a shift at the library in, oh, about eight minutes." Veronica paused and steeled herself before continuing. "I owe you an apology, Piz. I'm so sorry if I led you to believe there was something between us, but – there just isn't. I know it's no excuse, but I had a little too much to drink that night, and what happened … It was a mistake."

Piz shrugged. "Yeah, well, I kinda figured. Girls always go for the bad boys. And from what I hear about Logan …"

"You don't know anything about Logan," she interrupted. "It's not like that – he's not like that … Look, I'm sorry. I hope we can still be friends."

He nodded and smiled. "You know, Mars, this means the next time someone steals my stuff, I get the official friends rate and not just the friends-of-friends rate. Right?"

"Deal." Veronica grinned, waving as she walked away.

It turned out to be another excruciating day at work. The campus was virtually deserted and so was the library, which meant Kafka stayed where he was and no one came to Veronica looking for him. She was leafing through a new photography book when she heard men shouting outside. She glanced around at the empty library and quickly slid off the stool, exiting the building to check out the commotion.

A small crowd had gathered around a roped-off construction site, watching as men in hardhats stooped over something buried in the ground. Veronica squinted and was barely able to make out a pale patch contrasting against the dark earth, when she heard one of the men yell. "Someone call the police. I think these bones are human."

It didn't take long for the media to descend on Hearst College. That night, stories of the grisly find filled the evening news. According to the authorities, the tiny skeleton uncovered by the construction crew belonged to an unidentified boy, no more than a few years old, who had lain buried under an old classroom building for roughly two decades.

Three days later, the Sheriff released a forensic artist's facial reconstruction of the skull – a painstaking, three-dimensional portrait in clay – hoping someone would recognize the dead child. Veronica felt a chill the instant she saw the boy's face. His long, straight nose, broad forehead and angular bone structure were eerily familiar.

_He looks like … Logan. _

At first, Veronica thought she's finally lost it. Logan was never far from her thoughts, anyway, but lately, she especially missed the little things; their playful banter, the pleasure of his embrace, the kisses that started sweet and left her burning. Once, she thought she'd spotted him in the supermarket and ended up chasing down some kid who didn't look at all like Logan. So, she thought it was entirely possible she was just imagining the resemblance between him and that poor, dead, little boy.

But, then, she remembered a photo she'd seen countless times, sitting in a crystal frame on the grand piano in Logan's house. It was a family portrait taken by a pricey, professional photographer known for shooting the rich and famous. In the picture, a two-year-old, grinning Logan was sitting on Lynn's lap, Trina and Aaron on either side of mother and son.

Veronica needed to get her hands on that photo. Sneaking into Logan's hotel suite wouldn't be a problem because she still had the key card, but she doubted it would do any good. The photo had probably gone up in flames along with the rest of his house, since she couldn't recall ever seeing it in the suite.

She was at work when she realized the answer was right there in the library. Veronica spent several hours pouring through old celebrity gossip magazines, until she finally found what she was looking for, in a 1989 edition of People. After using the library's color copier to blow up the photo, she rushed home and laid it on her desk next to the facial reconstruction.

Carefully, Veronica examined their noses, lips, cheek bones and jaw lines, comparing every feature one by one. The resemblance was undeniable. Even Keith reluctantly agreed there were similarities. "I guess it's not that far-fetched," he mused. "Aaron certainly got around. I'd be surprised if Logan _didn't_ have any half-siblings out there. But, honey …"

"I know, Dad. There's no way to prove they're related until Logan comes home - if he comes home."

A week went by, then another, and soon Veronica was contemplating what classes to take in the fall. It was already the beginning of August and Logan had been gone for nearly two months. If Logan didn't come home soon, he'd miss fall registration. _Well, we just won't let that happen._ She was Googling driving directions to Elks Point when Wallace called.

"Hey, Superfly. Cancel whatever wallowing you had planned for tonight, we're taking you to a pah-tay."

"I'm not wallowing. I haven't wallowed in weeks."

"Right, V. That's why Logan's baby picture is tacked on your bulletin board next to that dead kid's. It's not like you're obsessing over some creepy bones 'cause you miss him or anything."

"I'm a detective, remember? It's an interesting case, and I'm just trying to solve it."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that," he said. "I assume you're free tonight? A brotha from the frat I might rush is throwing a house party while his parents are in Europe. We gotta go, V."

"I don't know, Wallace. A glorified frat party? Not exactly my scene."

"That's my point. Your 'scene' is the four walls of your bedroom, hanging with a drooling dog, and photos of dead people. You gotta get out more, girl. Piz and I will pick you up in two hours, so be ready."

Wallace hung up before Veronica could protest further. She sighed and looked around the room, her gaze sweeping over Backup, snoring loudly from the bed, and the bulletin board littered with photos, newspaper clippings and post-it notes. _I guess it won't kill me go to a party just this once, but first things first_, she decided. After packing a week's worth of clothes in a duffel bag, Veronica glanced at the clock and jumped in the shower.

An hour into the orgy of booze, loud music and drunken college boys artlessly trying to cop a feel, Veronica was nursing a soda and standing alone in the corner of the living room, wishing she'd stuck with Backup and her four walls. Two minutes after they'd arrived, Wallace had gotten friendly with an attractive coed, and was no where to be seen. She was wondering where Piz had run off to, when he suddenly materialized before her.

"Care for some food?" Piz held out a paper plate of crackers and Cheez Whiz. "And, believe me, I use the term loosely."

Veronica smiled, reaching out to take a cracker. "How's the internship going?" she asked.

Piz launched into a story about his perpetually stoned boss, who'd accused him of stealing the last bag of microwave popcorn. "He literally took apart my desk looking for it, Veronica. I swear, he was _this_ close to a full body cavity search. I think it's time to activate my new status as a friend of the Mars family. I need you, Veronica Mars, to solve The Case of the Missing Popcorn."

She was laughing when she noticed a tall figure looking her way. Veronica glanced up, her gaze meeting a pair of familiar, chocolate-colored eyes from across the room.

Logan.

Stunned, Veronica sucked in her breath as she stood riveted. But her initial joy was quickly overshadowed by the flash of pain she caught in Logan's eyes, just before his face transformed into an expressionless mask and he abruptly turned his back to her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Logan**

Logan clenched his jaw, willing his wildly beating heart to calm and the churning in his stomach to stop. He'd known he would have to face her eventually, but _Goddamn_ did it have to be his second night back?

The sun had just begun to set by the time Logan pulled into the Neptune Grande the night before. He'd driven straight through, more than 500 miles, stopping only for gas, and he'd been bone weary when he pushed open the door to his suite. "Hey dude, welcome home," Dick had greeted him. His friend had been genuinely happy to see him, and it eased Logan's apprehension about returning to Neptune.

After he unpacked, they'd ended up playing Gears of War and in between bloody battles Dick had filled him in on what he'd missed over the summer. Dick was babbling something about bones and a scandal at Hearst, when Logan finally gave in to the exhaustion, passing out on the couch.

In the morning, they'd headed to the beach where they spent the day surfing in the briny waters of the Pacific Ocean. But even after a full day of sun and fun, Logan had been strangely restless, and he'd quickly agreed when Dick suggested a party in their old neighborhood.

Now, Logan cursed his luck._ What the hell was she doing here, anyway? Since when was she into '09er parties?_ He'd been dreading their little reunion ever since Cliff beckoned him home to sign papers. Logan wasn't so foolish to think a month or two hiding out in a lake house would be enough to cure him of Veronica. He still loved her, and he'd known seeing her would hurt like hell. But seeing her _laughing_ with that Pizzlestick doofus made him want to smash something into a cement wall – preferably Piz's shaggy head.

He had the urge to get in his truck and drive far, far away. But Logan Echolls was never one to run from confrontation. _And I'm not about to be scared off by some short, blonde chick and her goofy, radio deejay from Beaverton._ Instead, he grabbed the drink in Dick's hand, downing the double-shot of amber-colored liquid in one gulp. He was reaching for a bottle of beer when he heard her voice behind him.

"Hey."

Logan braced himself with one, long swallow of beer, then turned to face the girl who'd so thoroughly ripped his heart out. Her hair was longer than he remembered, and danced over her shoulders in graceful waves, a few stray locks framing her slightly flushed face. A hesitant smile wavered on her lips.

"Gee. Whaddya know. It's Veronica Mars," Logan said grimly.

"Logan…" 

"Scram."

He took another gulp of his drink and started to turn away, but Veronica's irritated sigh brought him to a halt. It was a sound he'd heard so many times before, he knew what it signaled. Sure enough, there was the familiar headshake. Logan was surprised, however, to see that instead of her usual disdainful eye-roll, Veronica's gaze was downcast.

"I see you've reverted to jackass mode."

"Yeah, well lucky for me I'm done needing favors from you."

"Logan … You didn't return any of my calls. I – I've been worried about you"

It was Logan's turn to sigh irritably. "I'm fine. But I'm not your problem anymore, Veronica, so you can stop worrying about me."

She looked away, and Logan was startled to see what he thought was a glistening in her eyes. Softly, she said, "When did you get back?"

"Last night."

Veronica took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "We need to talk, Logan."

"Why? What's to talk about?" Logan replied wearily.

"It's not what you think. Something happened while you were gone … is it alright if I come by your place?"

Logan resented the concern her words wrought in him, even as he opened his mouth to ask if everything was okay. But something behind Veronica caught his eye. He glanced past her to see the perpetually disheveled Piz hovering nearby, and his eyes hardened.

The music and laughter blared around him and he bent his head to lean closer to Veronica, jerking his chin towards Piz. "You're boyfriend's waiting. You should probably get going. You wouldn't want to make him jealous, or anything," he said in a low, dull voice.

Confusion clouded Veronica's eyes and she twisted, looking over her shoulder to catch of glimpse of Piz as he leaned against a corner wall, hands shoved in his pockets. "Logan, Piz isn't…"

Logan didn't bother to answer Veronica's question as he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Unwilling to spend another minute under the same roof as Veronica and Piz, Logan ditched the party and took a cab back to the Grande. But instead of going up to his suite, Logan walked to the corner liquor store and bought a bottle of Patron. He spent the next several hours sitting on the darkened beach, tossing back the tequila and listening to the violent push-and-pull of the waves that perfectly matched his black mood.

When Logan staggered into his hotel suite in the wee hours of the morning, he was greeted with a surprise straight out of a porn flick. Dick was lip-locked with an older, dark-haired woman who was shoved up against the door to his room, blouse gaping.

"Um, hi?" Logan said, silently giving thanks Dick was at least wearing boxer shorts.

They jumped apart, the woman yanking the lapels of her blouse closed as she fumbled to cover herself.

"Oh, hey, Logan. I guess this is kinda awkward, huh?" Dick said. But the cocky grin on his face told Logan that his friend couldn't care less. "Allow me to introduce you. Logan, this is Heather. Heather, my roomie, Logan."

"Nice to meet you, Logan." Heather looked to be in her late 30s, with straight, chestnut brown hair cut just above her shoulders and large, doe-like eyes. She reminded Logan of an older, classier Kendall Casablancas and, while he shuddered at what Freud would make of the a scenario, he couldn't blame Dick for being attracted to her.

Heather peered at him closely and said, "Logan…Logan Echolls? Aaron's son?"

"Yeah," he bit out, stiffening and nodding curtly.

She continued staring at him, almost transfixed, then shook her head. "Sorry. It's just – I can't get over how much you look like your dad. You're the spitting image of him when he was your age."

Dick broke in, sensing Logan's discomfort. "Heather is a TV producer and does a lot of casting for shows, so she knows faces."

"Speaking of which, I've got to run. I have an early morning meeting tomorrow." She finished buttoning her blouse and after she slipped on a pair of pointy heels, kissed Dick on the cheek before rushing out the door.

Once they were alone, Dick turned to Logan. "Hey, what happened tonight, dude? You disappeared on me."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Veronica was there and I didn't exactly want to stick around."

Dick shook his head. "Man, Ronnie sure did a number on you. Well, did you at least hook up with someone? 'Cause you really need to work out some of that tension, if you know what I mean. If you don't loosen up a little, pretty soon you're gonna turn into Duncan."

"Um, I think you did enough loosening up for the both of us tonight. How old _is_ she?"

"I dunno. Like I care. She's recently divorced and hitting her sexual peak. I think I just hit on a whole new, untapped source of available, horny women."

Logan laughed. "That's what I like about you, Dick. You never change," he said, heading into his room. "I'm gonna crash. I'm pretty wasted."

He shed his shirt and jeans, leaving them where they fell on the floor, and collapsed onto his bed. Within moments, Logan was in a deep sleep, and didn't stir until the next morning when he woke to an insistent pounding on the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Veronica**

Veronica rose early the morning after the party, dressing quickly and hurrying out of the apartment just as the sun was beginning to come up. Truthfully, she'd never gone to sleep, but had lain awake for hours, unable to stop thinking about Logan.

She knew he would try to avoid her and she'd formulated a plan of attack. Which is why she was at the Neptune Grande, knocking loudly on his door at 7:20 in the morning, even though he was bound to be still asleep. And if he did bring home one of those vapid sorority girls who were always buzzing around him, then Veronica would enjoy tossing her out on her perky little ass.

By the time Logan finally answered the door, her knuckles were sore. Judging from the red eyes and the vague, sour smell of alcohol on his breath, he was clearly hung over. But he was alone, and despite her earlier bravado, Veronica wanted to weep with relief.

"Are you stalking me now?" Logan mocked. He was shirtless, wearing only his favorite, black sweats and Veronica had to force herself not to gulp. He leaned an arm against the doorjamb, effectively blocking her entrance. "Wait. Don't tell me. Piz isn't doing it right either?"

Veronica flushed and pushed his arm away, boldly forcing her way into the suite. She faltered once she got past him, unsure of where to begin. She wanted to tell him – what? How sorry she was? That the kiss meant nothing? How much she missed him? But it all sounded hollow and trite, even to Veronica, because, despite her deep regret, she herself didn't understand what had happened.

Besides, the thunderous look on Logan's face made it clear he wasn't going to hear any explanation she had to offer. Since the moment he turned his back on her at the party, he seemed hell bent on keeping her out of his life. There was plenty of time for breakdowns and confessions later, Veronica reasoned, pulling out the file on the dead boy and holding it out to him.

"Of course. I should've known. It's business," Logan said, shaking his head. "You couldn't at least wait for the roosters to wake up?" He snatched the folder from her outstretched hand and strode into the living room, tossing it onto the large ottoman as he slumped into the couch.

Veronica walked over, gingerly sitting next to him, her knees turned slightly towards his just inches away. She took a deep breath. "Did anyone tell you what's been going on at Hearst?"

"No, but let me save you some time. Whatever it was, I didn't do it."

Veronica sighed and began telling him about the construction crew's tragic discovery. "Forensic tests show the bones belonged to a boy, somewhere between the ages of two and five. They think he was buried sometime after 1990, when construction on the building started. But those particular classrooms were built in phases and the work took about three years. They didn't find the skull until a lot of the ground had already been torn up. Other pieces were found in different places, so it's impossible for them to pinpoint exactly when he was buried."

"That's all very fascinating, Veronica. But what the hell does it have to do with me?"

"Lamb hired a forensic artist to do a facial reconstruction of the skull. It shows what the boy probably looked like when he was alive. This is what the artist came up with." Veronica opened the folder and handed Logan the picture of the enhanced skull, watching his face carefully.

"You see it, don't you?" she asked.

Aghast, Logan gaped at the image. He nodded slowly, still staring at the picture, and said, "There used to be this photo, on the piano in our house, and …"

"I know." Veronica took out the magazine photo she'd found and placed it on top of the folder. Logan put the reconstruction picture next to it, and they both stared at the side-by-side portraits.

"Jesus …" Logan breathed. "I don't understand. Who is he?"

Veronica shook her head. "I don't know for sure, but I think he might be your half-brother. Do you know anything about your parents' past, what they might've been doing back then?"

"My parents? Please," Logan scoffed. "You and I both know my mom had nothing to do with this. It reeks of Aaron … But you'd probably find out more by checking the tabloids. I have no idea what he was up to, Veronica. I was two."

"But you guys were living in L.A., right?"

"Yeah. We lived in L.A. until I was like eleven - in the house my parents bought when they got married."

"When was that?"

Logan shrugged. "I think it was in '87 – sometime in the fall."

"I know you were young, but …"

"Other than what I read in the gossip rags, which my mom always claimed were lies, I don't know any details about Aaron's infidelities. Except, my dad did like to spread it around, so there's no telling how many women he slept with," Logan said bitterly. "You know, this could just be some bizarre coincidence. Isn't everyone supposed to have a doppelganger, a lookalike, running around?"

Veronica nodded carefully, her eyes sympathetic. But he refused to look at her. "That is a possibility. There's absolutely no evidence that the dead boy is related to you … Except, there is … the resemblance. It's uncanny."

Logan stared at the images on the ottoman, his face grim. "So what's next? What am I supposed to do?"

Veronica gently explained that Logan would have to give a blood sample for DNA testing. "It's the only way to know for sure."

Logan slumped forward, elbows propped on his knees as he held his head in his hands. "You think my dad did this, don't you? Killed him and buried the body, I mean," he asked, still avoiding her gaze.

Veronica was silent. They'd never really talked about Aaron's abuse, but Veronica had seen the faint scars that crisscrossed Logan's back and arms. She knew the beatings had gone on for years and no one had done anything about it. Feeling her throat close, Veronica could only nod.

Logan let out a long breath. "It wasn't always like that, you know. I was seven before he started hitting me. My mom actually used to bake cookies back then. She was making my favorite that day – chocolate chip – and I begged her to let me have one. But they'd just come out of the oven and she didn't want me to burn myself … Of course, I took one anyway.

"When my dad saw me, he slapped me so hard I fell and hit my head on the marble floor. I must've been knocked out for a good five minutes," Logan picked up the photo of dead boy. "I don't think my mom ever baked again."

Veronica swallowed thickly, reaching out a comforting hand. But she felt him flinch the moment her fingers touched his bare shoulder. Logan stood abruptly and crossed to the other side of the room.

"You should leave," he said, looking away. "Don't worry. I'll go see Lamb and get tested. What do I care, anyway? It's not like I didn't already know my dad was a killer."

Veronica stared him, willing him to look at her, until he finally raised his head and met her gaze.

"I'm fine, Veronica," he said, knowing what she was about to ask. "But you should really go. Your dad is probably wondering where you are."

Veronica gave him a small smile. "I'll go on one condition. Promise me you'll call before you see Lamb. You shouldn't go alone."

"I can call Cliff."

"Logan."

"Okay. Fine. I'll call."

Satisfied, Veronica stood and walked to the door, with Logan following behind. She opened the door, but stopped short, turning back to him.

"By the way, you should know … You were wrong last night about Piz, I mean," she said.

"So? What? He's _not_ the jealous type?"

"I have no idea. He's not my boyfriend."

Veronica grinned as she walked out of the suite.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Logan**

_Fuck._

Logan hated how relieved Veronica's parting revelation made him feel. _It's not like it changed anything – did it?_ Except the burning in his heart stung a little less, now that he knew she hadn't jumped into Piz's waiting arms.

His eyes fell on the bulging folder of photos and newspaper clippings Veronica left behind, and he swore again. His head hurt, and suddenly he was reeling, but he didn't know if it was from learning about a possible half-brother who could've been killed by their father, or being around Veronica again. Logan marveled when he realized that she'd been back in his life for less than 12 hours and was already wreaking havoc. _Hell, there was even a corpse._

It was textbook Veronica Mars.

The thought made his head throb painfully. Logan was hunting for aspirin, when he caught sight of the blinking red message light on the hotel phone. He picked up to hear Cliff's booming voice reminding him of their 9 a.m. appointment. "Don't be late, kid," the attorney said.

Logan dry swallowed two pills and checked the time. He was late, a fact Cliff was quick to point out the moment he stepped into his downtown office. "Sorry. I had an unexpected pest to deal with this morning," Logan said.

It didn't take long to sign all the necessary papers, selling off the last of his parents' properties. The realtor had gotten top dollar, and Cliff urged Logan to consider buying a place of his own.

"You could easily pay cash and it would be an investment, unlike the fortune you spend to stay in the Presidential Suite of the Neptune Grande. You're rich, Logan, but not _that_ rich."

Cliff handed Logan a set of keys to the storage facility, where his mother's art collection, and the few belongings that survived the fire, were being kept. "By the way, there was a break-in at the storage place and it looks like the thief targeted your parents' locker," Cliff informed him. "Probably some crazed fans. Luckily, the night guard managed to chase away whoever it was. It doesn't look like he got anything, but you might want to go through that stuff soon."

"Thanks. I'll take care of it … and I'll think about maybe getting a condo or something," Logan promised. "But, uh, there's something else I kind of need your help with. Remember that pest I mentioned?"

When Logan finished explaining Veronica's theory about the Hearst skeleton and his father, Cliff stared at him eyebrows raised. "You two must make a very – fun – couple. Seriously, Logan, for a guy who's mostly innocent, you've become my most lucrative client."

Cliff picked up the phone and poured on the charm. "Inga, it's so nice to hear your lovely voice again. How are those puppies of yours?" A few minutes later, Cliff had arranged a meeting at the sheriff's office. "If Lamb buys this story, you'll have to go down to the forensics lab to give a DNA sample," he said. "You shouldn't meet with Lamb alone. I'll meet you here and we'll go in together."

"Gee, between you and Veronica I'll have my very own entourage," Logan said, dryly, as he stood to leave.

Cliff's office was only a few blocks from Mars Investigations, and on an impulse, Logan pulled into an empty parking space across the street. It was still early for Veronica to be working, he guessed when he saw no one was there. He bent to slip a note under the door, pleased that he'd managed to avoid his ex.

"Can I help you?"

Logan jumped at the sound of Keith Mars' voice, but he quickly recovered and straightened, thankful that it was the father and not the daughter who'd startled him. "Um, hi, Mr. Mars. I was just leaving a note for Veronica."

"Oh, Logan. I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was you. Come in." Keith unlocked the door and held it open, motioning Logan inside. "Veronica mentioned you were back in town. It's been a while. How's your summer going so far?"

Logan hesitated, unsure how much Veronica had told her father. "I'm okay. I finally sold my parents' house and had to come back to sign the papers. I was just with Cliff, actually."

"Well, it's good to have you back. I think Veronica is happy you're home."

Logan shrugged. "Yeah, well, she's kind of got her teeth sunk into a new case."

"That's not what I meant, but I gather she's told you her theory?"

"She was banging on my door at the crack of dawn. That's actually why I'm here. Cliff set up a meeting with Lamb for tomorrow morning at 8:30."

Keith was studying Logan carefully, his eyes sympathetic. "Logan, it's probably just some strange coincidence," he began. "But even if it isn't, whatever Aaron did has nothing to do with you. You're not your father."

Logan couldn't bring himself to look up as he stared at the floor, head bent. After several long moments, he nodded slightly to acknowledge the older man's words, even if he couldn't quite bring himself to believe them.

The door suddenly clattered open and a feminine voice belted out a greeting, making Logan wish he'd gotten away when he had the chance.

"Hey, Dad. Sorry I'm late. I had something I had to take care of …" Veronica called out, stopping short when she saw Logan.

Before she could say anything more, he quickly told her about his appointment with Lamb even as he started walking towards the door. "I'm meeting Cliff at his office so you don't …"

"I'll pick you up at eight," she said firmly.

"I don't need an escort, Veronica," Logan groused. But one glance at her crossed arms and pursed lips, a posture he knew all too well, told him arguing would be futile. He rolled his eyes, feeling like a chump for giving in, until, he decided he'd just leave the suite before she showed up. He pulled open the door, then hesitated, turning back to Keith. "Uh, Mr. Mars? … Thanks."

Logan ignored the puzzled look Veronica shot first her father, then him, as Keith smiled reassuringly.

"You're welcome, Logan."

The next day, in typical Veronica fashion, she showed up at the Grande forty-five freaking minutes early. He caught her trying to hide a small smirk and he could practically see "gotcha" flashing in her intelligent blue eyes. Clearly, I needed to wake up really early to beat _this_ worm, Logan thought.

He evaded the smug look she gave him, silently brushing past her to exit the suite. The simmering tension between them was starting to feel very dangerous, especially when he could still feel the heat crackling just below the surface. Engaging in silent contests of will and verbally sparring with Veronica Mars could only end badly for him. Not only would he lose nine out of ten matches, he'd wind up right where he was two months ago – hopelessly in love with a girl who would never love him back.

For once, Logan was going to heed the warning bells sounding off in his head. The less interaction with Veronica, the better, he thought, saying little during the brief car ride and barely acknowledging her once they got to Lamb's office.

"Like father, like son," Lamb jeered as Logan and the others sat around a table in the interrogation room. "I knew I'd be locking you up again. So what crime are you here to confess?"

"Is that how you solve cases? Wait for suspects to walk in and confess on their own? Great strategy there, _Sheriff_," Logan retorted, earning a chuckle from Veronica.

"Excuse me, Sheriff Lamb. Mr. Echolls is here on his own volition to offer potential information regarding the skeleton found at Hearst College," Cliff said. "He's simply a good citizen trying to do his civic duty."

Logan had to hand it to Cliff. His attorney made him sound like a freaking boy scout. He grinned and arched his eyebrows, taunting Lamb.

The sheriff tipped back his chair, and considered the trio before him. "Okay. We'll play it your way. Tell me, Mr. Echolls. What information do you have that will break my case wide open?"

"Not me, her," Logan said, jerking his thumb towards Veronica. "I'm just here to give blood."

He sat back, giving Veronica center stage to tell her story. When she was done, Lamb threw his pen on the table letting his chair crash back down to the floor. "Is that it? You want me to launch an investigation into a 17-year-old case based on this so-called resemblance? You've gotta give me something else to go on, folks, because as far as I can tell, Aaron Echolls was living in L.A. at the time and didn't have a single tie to Hearst."

"Uh, that's not entirely accurate," Logan said, slowly sitting up, remembering the photo he'd found at the lake house. "Aaron never said anything about going to Hearst, or any college for that matter. But I found a photo of him that I'd swear was taken in front of the Hearst library."

"And you're just now saying something?" Veronica asked.

"I didn't remember until now."

"Wow, guys," Lamb interrupted, standing to leave. "It's a smoking photograph – or _not_. Thanks for wasting my time."

"'Cause you're so busy chasing down all those other tips that are just pouring in," Veronica said. "Well, how many others are there? Five, ten? Zero?"

Lamb glared at Veronica. "Fine. Get me a copy of the photo and I'll look into it. Meanwhile, I guess it wouldn't hurt to get a DNA sample from you," he said, nodding at Logan.

Veronica eyed Lamb, smiling slyly and lowering her voice to a confidential whisper. "By the way, I heard the coroner found a bullet hole in the skull. I don't suppose there was a bullet to match?"

Lamb scoffed. "And you think you're so clever, Ms. Mars. You might want to double check your sources. The boy wasn't shot, he was …" Lamb stopped mid-sentence, his face chagrined.

"Nice try, Veronica. Folks, I'd say it's been a pleasure, but I'd be lying. Inga will tell you how to get to the lab. It'll take a few days for the results to come in. I'll let you know when I hear something."

Twenty minutes later, Logan was fidgeting in a vinyl padded chair that was uncomfortably small for his lanky frame. He slouched low in the seat, one elbow resting on the chair's arm, his cheek propped against his closed fist. Next to him, Veronica's head was bent over her laptop as her fingers flew over the keys.

Linda, the receptionist behind the window at the forensics lab, had warned them it would be a long wait since they didn't have an appointment, and Logan was already losing patience. Somewhere in the building, the small, frail bones of a boy who could be his brother, were lying in some cold, sterile storage drawer. It made his stomach churn.

Logan never would've noticed the receptionist abandoning her station if it weren't for Veronica, who suddenly sprang up from her seat. He watched in bemused irritation as she slipped into the vacated office. Moments later, he heard metal drawers opening and, wearily went to retrieve his ex-girlfriend before she got them both arrested.

"Why the hell hasn't someone locked you up and thrown away the key?" Logan hissed in a low whisper.

"Because I'm too good at what I do," she answered, rifling through files. "And I'd be even better at it if you'd get with the program here, Logan. You're supposed to be my lookout. I need you outside, keeping watch."

"Sorry. I didn't see the memo. Must be that darn invisible ink. Are you looking for something specific, or just snooping around for fun because Mac and Wallace got tired of IM-ing you?"

"Were you not paying attention earlier? Lamb let it slip that the coroner finished the autopsy and came up with a cause of death. I need to get my hands on that report. Now would you get out of here?"

"Fine. I'll practice my bird-calls. If you hear a Canadian honker, you'd better skedaddle. But you're in the clear if it's just a snow goose. Got it? Should we synchronize our watches, come up with code names?"

Shaking his head, Logan retraced his steps back into the lobby, sinking into a chair seconds before a head of auburn curls appeared from around the corner. He coughed loudly and jumped up, putting himself between the attractive, young receptionist and her office door.

"Uh, excuse me. It's Linda, right? I was hoping you could help me," he blurted, raising his voice so Veronica could hear. "You know that short, skinny girl I was with? She went looking for a bathroom a while back and I'm afraid she's gotten lost. She's a little slow upstairs, if you know what I mean. One of those dumb blonde types."

Linda flashed him a smile and clucked her tongue. "Now, that's not a very nice thing to say about your girlfriend."

"Oh, she's not my girlfriend. Believe me. She's – my personal assistant. But she's been stalking me, so I'm gonna have to fire her. In the meantime, would you mind hunting her down for me? I think she stole my Blackberry."

"Sure, it's no problem. But you should be careful around her. People like that can be dangerous."

"You have no idea."

After Linda disappeared back down the hallway, Veronica poked her head out of the counter window glaring at Logan. He smirked. Score one for me, he thought, completely forgetting his resolve to avoid their squabbling tête-à-têtes. She left the office, stuffing a stack of papers into her bag. By the time Linda returned, Veronica was sitting quietly in the chair next to Logan, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap.

"Oh good, you found her," Linda said. "The nurse is ready for you in Room 3, Mr. Echolls."

"It's Logan, and thanks for all your help."

"You're more than welcome," Linda smiled brightly, glancing a little warily at Veronica.

It took the medical examiner less than five minutes to get a sample of Logan's blood, and although he wasn't normally squeamish, he felt queasy afterwards. As they left the building, Linda handed him a business card. "Call if you have any questions," she told a slightly dazed Logan.

When they were outside, Veronica snatched the card from him, flipping it over to read the back. "Your new friend gave you her _home_ phone number. Oh look, there's even a _heart_. How precious."

Veronica's reaction - could it possibly be jealousy - brought a grin to Logan's face. "What can I say? I'm hard to resist. But you wouldn't know, would you? That was never a problem for _you_."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Can we get going, Jeeves?"

As Veronica drove along the Pacific Coast Highway, Logan stared at the passing ocean, absently playing with the cotton swab taped to the crook of his elbow. For the hundredth time since he watched his blood flowing into a test tube, he wondered what kind of fucked-up genetics ran in his veins. _And when would they finally kick in?_

"Stop." Veronica commanded softly. "I know how your brooding mind works, Logan. You're nothing like him and you never will be."

Pushing aside thoughts of burning pools and bloodied faces, Logan dodged the subject. "So other than a skeleton under the classroom, what else did I miss while I was gone? This is Neptune, after all."

"Well, let's see," Veronica considered. "Mac seems to have found true love. She patched things up with Brian earlier in the summer and they've been making googly-eyes at each other ever since. It's pretty revolting to watch, but … she's happy. And I hear you had something to do with that?"

"Me? I didn't do anything." But Logan was pleased, despite his protest. A small smile curved his lips at the thought of the computer wizard walking off into the sunset with her gangly, basketball star boyfriend.

"Right. You couldn't have done anything, because you weren't even here at the time." Veronica said, playing along with him.

"Is that all you've got, Mars? A fluffy love story about a techie and a jock? If that's the best gossip you're offering, then I'd say you're slipping."

She huffed. "Okay, how's this for you? Right after you left, the president of Hearst was caught doing the hokey pokey with his barely legal student aid during 'office hours.' Turns out he'd been sleeping with coeds for years. The board of trustees threw a fit and demanded his resignation."

"Puritans," Logan remarked.

Veronica chuckled. "Remember that assistant dean who helped you get into school? Rumor has it the board is on the verge of naming her as his replacement. If she gets it, she'll be the first woman president of Hearst College."

"First Nancy Pelosi becomes Speaker of the House, now Morgan Kennedy takes over Hearst. What _is_ this world coming to?"

"Move over bacon, it's time for something leaner."

"… and meaner?" Logan quipped.

"I am woman, hear me roar. Grrr…"

They laughed, and just like that, Logan felt himself slipping into their old, familiar pattern: first the banter, then laughter followed by an easy, comfortable silence, which usually ended in the bedroom with their bodies feverishly entwined. Logan's mind drifted over memories of Veronica's soft skin, the way she shivered under his touch and the hazy cerulean of her eyes when she came apart beneath him.

Logan groaned silently and shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling _cramped_. He turned to stare out the window again, wishing the ride would just end already. She was driving him crazy. Veronica's subtle scent of lavender-spiced vanilla tickled his nose, reminding him of the last time he'd kissed her.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Veronica said.

"Vanilla," Logan answered hastily – it was the first thing that popped into his head.

"What?"

"It's a spice, Veronica. Comes from a bean. Some cultures believe it's an aphrodisiac, but here in the states, we put it in baked goods like cookies and cakes."

"Is that what you were doing in Tahoe, Logan? Learning to bake?"

He blinked, momentarily confused. But as realization sunk in, a lack of sleep combined with the frustration and near constant heartache of the past few days finally boiled over. "God damn it, Veronica! You _spied_ on me?"

"I didn't spy on you. I just tracked the charges on your credit card."

"That's got to be illegal, and besides, you invaded my privacy. It's none of your fucking business where the hell I go, what I do, or who I do it with. We. Broke. Up. Remember? It's what you wanted."

"Logan, I never said I wanted to break up."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Please. I'm not stupid, Veronica. I can follow the clues, too, you know."

Veronica's Saturn turned into the hotel driveway and slowed as she started to park. "Logan …"

"Thanks for the ride." He got out of the car, slammed the door shut and walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Veronica**

_Veronica giggled as he half-walked, half-spun them into the room, her laughter subsiding as his mouth caught hers in a searing kiss that made her toes curl. She felt cool leather against the backs of her bare legs moments before he tumbled her onto the couch. In mere seconds he'd shucked both their clothes, and she reveled in the weight of his warm body pressing into hers._

"_Bedroom?" she gasped._

"_Can't wait – can you?" he asked as his lips grazed the column of her neck, then dipped lower to bite lightly on one tight, pink nipple._

_Veronica's urgent "No" came out in a strangled cry, and she shuddered as his low chuckle vibrated against her breast. She tangled her fingers in his short hair, arching her back when he shifted and began tenderly ministering to the other peak._

"_Logan…please," she groaned._

"_Please, what?" he teased ruthlessly, trailing hot kisses down her torso to her soft belly then lower until … Logan reared up and, in one, long stroke_ – licked the side of her face.

Veronica woke with a start, her eyes popping open just in time to see Backup moving in for another slobbery swipe. "Hey boy," she said, scratching behind his ear and sighing. "You couldn't have waited just a few more minutes?"

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, absently petting Backup while her rapid pulse gradually slowed. First nightmares, now disturbingly erotic dreams, Veronica's subconscious seemed stuck on Logan. Even during daylight hours, he was constantly on her mind.

She was worried about him. On the surface, Logan seemed to be taking the latest twist in stride, shrugging indifferently when she raised the possibility of Aaron's guilt. Except, when she drove him to the Sheriff's Department and later the forensics lab, he'd barely said a word, and she doubted the tension in his shoulders had anything to do with a fear of needles.

She intended to ask him how he was doing, if she could get him in the same room with her, or at least get him to answer the phone. Judging from the number of unanswered messages she'd left and Dick's perfunctory "He's not here," every time she called the suite, Veronica figured Logan was avoiding her. But new information about the case had forced her hand, and now it was time to pull out her secret weapon.

Veronica kicked back the covers and dragged herself out of bed. An hour later, she was walking purposefully down the corridor of the Neptune Grande to Logan's suite. She knocked and waited several moments before slipping the key card into the electronic lock. The suite appeared to be empty.

"Logan?" She'd seen his Range Rover in the garage, so she was fairly certain he was home. After a quick glance around the terrace, she turned to the closed bedroom door and pushed it open. She started to call his name again, when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

Veronica turned just in time to see an unsuspecting Logan emerge from the bathroom, fastening a white hotel towel around his waist. She froze, mouth agape at the sight of her nearly naked former boyfriend and his very nude, very tone, tanned chest. Veronica's face burned as images from last night's steamy dream flashed in her head.

"Jesus Christ, Veronica! What the hell are you doing here?" Logan jerked in surprise, hands instinctively moving to ensure the towel was tightly cinched.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I-I'll just be outside," she stammered, stumbling through the doorway.

By the time he came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, wearing a t-shirt, jeans and sardonic grin, Veronica had managed to recover her wits. He flopped down on the couch and threw her an expectant look, one eyebrow raised. "Checking out the goods, Veronica?" he said in a low, husky drawl.

She suppressed an involuntary shiver and shakily walked over to him. "You wish," she managed in a steady voice. "Here's your key back." Veronica held out the plastic card, but he didn't move.

"Keep it," Logan said, waving her hand away after a momentary pause. "I'd take it back in a heartbeat, if I thought it would actually keep you out of my room. But I know you, Veronica. You'd just find some other way to break in … Why give Lamb the satisfaction of arresting you? Again."

This time, Veronica couldn't hide her reaction. Grinning, she said, "Wow. Look at you, being all chivalrous."

"Yeah. That's me. Always a gentleman. So, what are you doing here?"

Veronica's smile faded as she remembered the reason for her visit. "I read the autopsy report. There's not much, but additional tests narrowed the boy's age a little more. He was about two or three years old at the time of death."

"And? I know you didn't sneak in here just to tell me that."

"The coroner was also able to determine the cause of death … The boy's neck was broken, most likely from a fall."

"A fall? Then it was an accident?"

"Maybe. But the report also said there must've been considerable force for him to have broken his neck the way he did. Someone probably pushed him, or hit him so hard he fell."

Logan paled and bent his head. "Were there … other injuries?"

She shook her head. "No, but that doesn't necessarily mean …."

"That he wasn't abused? I know. It was years before Aaron broke any of my bones." Logan stood suddenly, and stalked to the terrace, somberly leaning against the glass door. "Why are you here, Veronica? You've never said who hired you to investigate all this? The dean?"

"What? No one. I – I just noticed the resemblance and I had to know."

Logan stared at Veronica. "So you're doing this for kicks? Must be one hell of a boring summer. Look, I've been thinking, whatever happens, this ends when the test results come back, right? I mean, even if he is my brother, Aaron's been dead for a year."

"There's still a lot of unanswered questions, Logan. We don't even know who the mother was."

"Yeah, but does it really matter? Maybe it's better for everyone if you just let it go."

An irrational panic momentarily threw Veronica as she looked helplessly at Logan. At a loss for words, she lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug, her eyes locked with his. "Logan … I …"

"Forget it," he said, holding her gaze. "I don't know what I was thinking. You never let anything go."

_I let you go, _she thought in despair.

Veronica left the suite moments later, forlorn and disappointed. She'd wanted to find out how Logan was coping, but instead of being a comfort, she managed to make things worse. Alarmed by how easily he could slip out of her life, she'd instinctively grasped at the only available straw – the case – to prevent that from happening. Only now did she realize her folly.

She was still searching for a way to fix things with Logan, when Cliff gave Veronica her chance at a do-over a few days later. She was glumly filing case reports when the unabashed ambulance chaser strolled in. "Just the pint-sized detective I was looking for," he said, dropping onto the sofa just as Keith entered the room. "The DNA test results are in. It's a match. Logan and the dead toddler have the same paternal, genetic profile."

Veronica only vaguely heard Cliff go on to explain that Lamb had already deduced the child was the result of Aaron Echolls' many affairs and in light of the nearly 20 year time lapse, there was little chance of finding the mother.

"He's convinced Aaron killed the boy in a fit of rage. Given what we know about Logan's father, it's not too much of a stretch even for Lamb, and with his prime suspect already six feet under, he's made this case a low priority."

"Does Logan know?" Veronica interrupted.

"I was just there."

Veronica stood, grabbing her bag as she called over her shoulder. "I've gotta go. Don't wait up, Dad."

When Logan answered his door less than an hour later, she pushed past him carrying bags of food, not even bothering with a formal greeting.

"I've got lasagna and Easy Rider. Please tell me there's still some ice cream in that mini fridge of yours, because that's the one thing I forgot." She glanced at Logan, who was still standing at the open door. "Are you going to shut that, or what?"

Logan rolled his eyes, kicking the door closed. "At least you knocked," he muttered.

"I knocked the last time. Can I help it if you didn't hear me?"

"Where's that key again? The thought of you behind bars is suddenly sounding better and better."

"Too late," Veronica chirped smugly. She set the takeout bags on the ottoman, next to a cardboard box filled with photos, drawings and other personal papers. Unable to resist, she reached inside and withdrew one of the pictures, her lips tugging into a smile at the image. Logan and a familiar-looking blond, blue-eyed boy mugged for the camera, their arms flung around one another, sporting grins that were missing several teeth between them.

"You're such a snoop." Logan came up behind Veronica, looking over her shoulder at the photo in her hand. "That was taken at summer camp, the year Duncan and I met. We were like, five, I think."

"You were adorable." When Logan didn't respond, she held up one of his crayon drawings. "Your stick figures, on the other hand, could use a little more depth. What is all this?"

Logan handed Veronica a can of soda and sat down on the couch, grabbing one of the takeout boxes. "Cliff was after me to sell my parents' houses, so I've been going through their stuff. I found some things up at the cabin that my mom had been keeping."

Veronica suddenly remembered the photo Logan had mentioned in Lamb's office and began rummaging through the box, abandoning dinner to pursue the case. "Where's that picture of your dad at Hearst?"

Logan put down his food with a sigh, disappearing into the bedroom for several minutes before returning with a scrapbook. He quickly flipped through the pages until he found the loose photo stuck between press clippings and handed it to Veronica.

A long-haired, twenty-something Aaron Echolls stood among a half dozen other students by the arched entrance to the Hearst Library, unmistakable for its imitation of California's Spanish mission architecture. Veronica ignored the bell bottoms and checkered pants, zeroing in on the two women.

The first woman - a wiry brunette in an oversized blazer – was half-turned from the camera, her face virtually hidden under a large, floppy hat save for a pair of tortoise shell glasses. She stood slightly apart from the group, looking away as if bored. The coed with blond, feathered tresses who was draped over Aaron's shoulder, however, looked anything but bored, and Veronica's curiosity was instantly piqued.

"Gee, where can _I_ get hot pants?" Veronica said, plopping easily onto the couch next to Logan, their bare arms nearly touching. "Your dad seems pretty cozy with this groovy chick. You don't recognize her, do you?"

Logan glanced at the woman Veronica was pointing at and shook his head. "Nope. Don't know her. Kind of a long shot anyway, don't you think? I mean, the … my brother … had to have been born in the late '80s, right? This photo was taken at least a decade before."

"Yeah, I know." Veronica tossed the photo onto the ottoman and resumed eating, stabbing her fork into the lasagna. "The mother could still be someone Aaron met at Hearst. Maybe they had an on-again, off-again thing, or she wasn't exactly a girlfriend, you know, in the strictest sense of the term …"

Logan snorted in derision. "Like how my father wasn't a faithful husband, you know, in the strictest sense of the term? If a wife and two kids couldn't put a damper on Aaron's sex life, I doubt some supposed girlfriend did, either. He cast a wide net. The mother could be any one of his playmates."

He dumped his takeout container into an empty bag and slumped against the smooth, leather cushions. Veronica studied him over her shoulder, noting that despite his relaxed posture, Logan's jaw was clenched. She shifted, sitting sideways to face him, hesitantly placing a hand on his forearm. "Hey," she whispered. "How are you dealing with all this?"

Logan stiffened, so slightly that Veronica thought she'd imagined it, until she saw his forced shrug. "I'm fine. It's nothing I haven't been through before. No, really," he said when she started to interrupt. "It's easier, actually, because at least this time, he's dead."

Veronica was silent as she searched his face, debating whether he was telling her the truth. Head bent, Logan's gaze was fixed on his fingers, which were restlessly plucking at the hem of a sleeve. "Logan, for what it's worth, I'm here if you want to talk, or whatever."

A corner of Logan's mouth quirked up, his eyebrows teasing as he leered. "Talking doesn't interest me so much, but this 'whatever' sounds intriguing. What exactly did you have in mind?"

Veronica felt her cheeks grow warm, even as her lips curved in a smile. She slugged him lightly in the shoulder and their eyes locked, the spark of mischief between them quickly flaring into a different kind of heat. Her breath hitched as they stared at each other, and it struck her that she and Logan were like two magnets, helplessly drawn together despite their similar natures, defying the laws of physics.

Logan broke away first, straightening as he cleared his throat. After an awkward beat, he gestured to his mother's belongings. "Uh, anyway … My mom saved all kinds of photos and letters, so have at it, Nancy Drew. Maybe you'll find a clue in there somewhere."

Veronica blinked and let out the breath she'd been holding. For a single, fleeting instant, she thought he was going to kiss her and her heart had quickened with an unexpected joy. Now, she secretly admitted to herself, she'd been wishing for it all along.

She swallowed, hoping Logan couldn't sense her disappointment, and settled back on the couch, reaching for the scrapbook. After half-heartedly leafing through several pages, Veronica slowly realized the album was a chronicle of Aaron's early career, going as far back as a 1986 magazine photo spread of him with an adoring Lynn Lester by his side. A feminine hand had carefully noted dates and locations next to each clipping.

"Your mom must've started this album when she was dating Aaron," Veronica murmured, her voice trailing off as she turned the page and spotted the familiar masthead of the Hearst Free Press. The story about the up-and-coming Hollywood heartthrob's return to his alma mater had actually made the front page of the college newspaper.

"According to this article, Aaron _was_ a student at Hearst, but dropped out in '79 to pursue acting full-time. After he made it big, he was asked to come back and speak to a bunch of film and dramatic arts students. Look, there's even a photo." Veronica angled the scrapbook so that it rested on both their laps.

Logan huffed, barely glancing at the black and white image, as he pointed a remote at the television and clicked it on. "That's what passed for journalism back then? No wonder my father's crappy movies were hits." He picked up the DVD Veronica brought and started to stand, but hesitated as something in the photo caught his eye.

It was a standard, cheesy, grip-and-grin shot of Aaron surrounded by students as he shook hands with a pretty, dark-haired coed, whose large, expressive eyes made Logan suck in his breath, shocked. "Let me see that," he said, clicking off the TV before grasping the album to take a closer look. "I don't believe it. I mean, I can't be sure, but I'd swear this woman is Dick's new girlfriend."

"Wow. I'm stunned. Dick has a girlfriend?"

"I just met her the other night … She kept going on about how I looked like my dad when he was my age, but I just thought she was some Hollywood brown noser type. It never occurred to me she actually knew him."

"The caption says her name is Heather Sutton. Apparently, she was president of the Drama Club," Veronica said, craning her neck to read the article. "Looks like she was single-handedly responsible for getting Aaron to speak at Hearst."

"Jeez…it's got to be the same woman. Dick just introduced her as Heather, no last name, but he said she was divorced."

"You know, she kind of looks like …"

"Kendall. Yeah, I noticed."

"It's sort of …"

"Creepy? I got that, too, but can we focus on the problem at hand here, Mars? It can't be a coincidence that Heather Sutton hooks up with Dick right when everything starts going down, can it?"

"Did Dick say when they met?"

"No. But it must've been while I was gone. He was seeing some other girl when I left."

"Well, we can't say for sure Heather knew Aaron, just that they met in January of '87, but the timing definitely works. Your brother could've been born as early as October of the same year, and even if he was conceived months later, it still fits." Veronica paused. "Oh my god, Logan. You were both around the same age."

"A little slow on the math, Veronica? It's alright. I already figured it out. It kind of explains things though, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"My parents were the golden couple of the '80s. He was the Hollywood hero, who married his leading lady so they could live happily ever after in their Beverly Hills mansion. The press loved them, and all the ink they got fueled his career. There was no way he was going to leave my mother for some college coed, even if she was pregnant with his kid."

"What are you saying, Logan?"

"That my dad had a pretty strong motive for hiding his affair."

The room fell silent as Veronica considered his words and after several, long moments, Logan spoke again, this time in a quiet, wistful voice.

"You know, my mom was three months pregnant with me when she married my dad. They got hitched in September of '87, and I was born the following March. I've known for years, but all of this has made me wonder – what if they hadn't gotten married? It's not like they _had_ to. She could've had an abortion, or put me up for adoption, raised me on her own…"

"Logan…"

"Aaron was poison. She could've been happy if it weren't for him. If she hadn't married him, she and my brother might still be alive … and so would Lilly."

Veronica sat up, whirling to face him. "Yeah, or maybe it would've been _your_ bones lying under that building for the past 20 years! When are you going to get it through that head of yours, Logan? What happened to your mom and Lilly – it wasn't your fault …"

"I don't …"

"No. Just shut up and listen. What about Cassidy? You had nothing to do with him blowing up the bus. So if you weren't here, if you weren't _you_, who would've saved me that night on the roof?" Veronica's voice broke as her eyes searched his face. "I miss Lilly and I wish she were here, alive and well. But Logan, I wouldn't change anything else."

He looked up, his gaze challenging her, and Veronica saw from Logan's skeptical expression that he didn't believe her. "I swear, Logan. It's true … My only regret is what happened … with Piz. It was a horrible mistake. I-I don't even know why …"

Logan averted his eyes and bent his head to resume staring at his hands. "Did you and Piz…?"

Veronica frowned, puzzled for a moment, until she realized what he was asking. "God, no, Logan. It was just … the one kiss. Nothing else happened – then or since … I looked for you, afterwards, but you were gone." She paused and took a deep breath. "Logan, I'm so…."

"It's okay," he interrupted, meeting her eyes and offering a small reassuring smile before he ducked his head. "What's done is done. You know, it was probably for the best anyway. I mean, you and I? We were bound to be a disaster."

Logan's words pricked her heart and she winced, blinking back the sudden moisture in her eyes. She didn't know why it bothered her so much. Hadn't she thought the exact same thing not so long ago? But that had been before they'd spent nearly a year together, happy and … in love.

"It wasn't all bad." Veronica's voice was almost a whisper. "I was pretty happy, actually."

She looked up into Logan's surprised eyes and their gazes locked. "Yeah, me too," he said, so low she thought she'd imagined it.

That night, like so many others, they fell asleep curled on the couch with the television screen still flickering in the darkened room. But in the morning, unlike all those other times, Veronica woke up alone, wrapped in an afghan she'd never seen before. Quietly, she slipped out of the suite.

When she got home, Keith was sitting in the kitchen spooning cereal from a big, blue bowl with "My Daddy" painted in bright red on the side. "I'm not going to say anything about you being out all night," he said, between mouthfuls.

"Thanks for not mentioning it, Dad … I was with Logan. I didn't want him to be alone."

Keith put down his spoon and nodded. "How's he taking the news?"

"He feels guilty, I think. He still blames himself for Lilly and his mom. This just stirred all that up again," she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"He just needs some time, honey." Keith stood and rinsed his bowl in the sink before grabbing his briefcase to leave. "By the way, I have a new client. Seems some Hollywood agent was found shot to death in his office, and all signs point to a suicide. His widow hired me to prove it was murder so she can collect the $2 million insurance policy."

"Sounds interesting."

"Yeah, well, the funny thing is, the dead guy - Harvey Greenblatt? I knew him. We met when Logan's mom hired me to find that stalker. He was Aaron Echolls' agent."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Logan**

The morning after Veronica barged into his suite, Logan lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling, trying to banish a lingering sense of disappointment.

He'd woken shortly after 3 a.m. to find Veronica stretched out on the couch, her head pillowed in his lap. Instantly alert, alarms sounded in his head, even as his cock sprang to attention. He'd summoned all of his will power to ease out from under the slumbering girl and went in search of a blanket, knowing she always got cold in the chilly, air-conditioned suite. Then he'd fallen into his own bed, where he tossed for hours despite his exhaustion.

Veronica was gone by the time the morning sun woke him and for some reason, her absence left Logan feeling … bereft. Just when he thought he had finally grown accustomed to not having her in his life, she weaseled her way back in. But Logan was no fool. He knew she wouldn't be there if it weren't for this damn thing with his father.

Still, when she'd offered a comforting shoulder to lean on, he'd been grateful and couldn't refrain from a little bit of playful teasing. After all, baiting Veronica was second nature. He just hadn't expected the bolt of desire that hit him in the gut, rendering him nearly breathless. When he was drowning in the deep blue of her eyes, he'd been overwhelmed by the craziest compulsion to lean over and kiss her, because despite everything, kissing Veronica Mars was still the most natural thing in the world to him.

But for once, reason won out and he'd resisted the impulse. Deep in his heart, he'd known Veronica would turn away from him and he didn't think he could bear getting rejected by her, yet again. Lying alone on his bed, Logan didn't regret his decision, but wished he didn't still feel her loss so acutely.

Maybe Dick was right, Logan thought mildly horrified. _I do need to loosen up - and move on._

_Speaking of the devil_…Logan realized he hadn't seen Dick since the night of the party. He was reaching for the phone when the door to the suite opened and his wayward friend strolled in.

"Hey man, I was just going to call you. Where've you been?" Logan asked, coming out of his room.

"I've was staying at Heather's. The woman is insatiable. Talk about endurance, I think we must've broken some sort of record," Dick answered, dropping a small duffel bag onto the couch. "So this morning we're eating breakfast in bed, and she's got the newspaper open, when all of a sudden I see your name splashed all over the front page. Dude, what the hell happened?"

"Veronica …"

At the mention of her name, Dick put up a hand to silence Logan. "Never mind. I get the picture. I should've known it had something to do with that crazy ex of yours."

"Uh, yeah. But hey, I need to ask you about Heather."

"Like does she have any divorced, horny friends? Hell yeah! Finally, you've seen the light!"

"I'm not looking for a date. I need some information about Heather. I think she knew my dad. What do you know about her?"

"For reals? She never mentioned it. Then again, we don't exactly do much talking, you know what I'm saying? I think she did mention being a Hearst alum, though."

"When did you meet her?"

"Like a few weeks ago – at the gym. Why? What's the big deal, anyway? So she knew your father. Lots of people did. This is Neptune."

"They met at Hearst, when she was a student - right around the time my half-brother would've been conceived. I need to talk to her."

Dick stared at Logan and shook his head. "Now you're starting to sound just like Ronnie. You can't think Heather had anything to do with all this?"

"I don't know. If anything, she was around Aaron at the right time, so she may know who he hooked up with."

"Okay, let's go," Dick gave in. "I was just at her place. She should still be there."

Heather Sutton lived less than two miles from Logan's old house, in the same prestigious zip code as the Kane and Casablancas families, as well as the rest of Neptune's filthy rich. Like the Echolls mansion, the Sutton place was situated on a lushly landscaped, but perfectly manicured street, ensconced behind a high wall.

Dick pulled his cherry red Porsche up to the wrought iron gate and pushed the intercom button, waving into the security camera. A few minutes later, a sultry voice on the other end cooed, "Back for another go round, stud?"

Logan glanced at Dick, who was giving him a two-handed thumbs-up sign and silently mouthing, "Score!" Stifling a laugh, Logan shook his head and grinned widely. Dick turned back to the intercom. "You know it, babe," he said to Heather, yelping when Logan smacked him in the chest. "Uh, actually, it'll have to wait. I brought a friend with me – you remember Logan. He needs to talk to you about something."

"Come on up."

The gate buzzed and after it slowly opened, Dick steered his car along the long, curved driveway that led to the main house. Logan gave a low whistle. Even by 09er standards, the place was huge. "Pretty swanky, huh?" Dick said. "Heather is a big television producer so she rakes in the dough. On top of that, her ex is some Hollywood studio big wig and she made out like a bandit in the divorce."

A maid answered the door and led them to a sunroom that looked out on an English garden. Heather greeted them as they entered the airy room, walking over to kiss Dick on the cheek. "It's nice to see you again, Logan. Have a seat," she said, gesturing to a nearby sofa. "Would either of you care for something to drink?"

"A beer would be great, babe. Thanks," Dick said, while Logan declined.

Heather turned to the maid and quietly gave her instructions before sitting on an oversized chair closest to Dick. After a few minutes of small talk, the maid returned with a beer and bottled water. "So, Logan, Dick said something about you needing to speak with me?" Heather said, after sipping her drink.

"It's about my father. I think you knew him." Logan explained how he'd found the story of Aaron's visit to Hearst in an album of old press clippings. "I just need to know what he was doing back then."

Heather drew a deep breath and sighed. "Wow. This is awkward, to say the least. Yes, I knew Aaron, but that was a long time ago. God, I must've been around nineteen."

"You were a sophomore."

She was clearly startled, but recovered quickly. "Yes, I believe you're right. Aaron's career was just beginning to take off, which was why he was willing to speak at Hearst. We met a few times to go over the particulars and frankly, I was in awe of him. He was charming and attentive and so _handsome_. Being nineteen and a little foolish, I had an affair with him."

"He was dating my mother."

Heather hesitated and examined her hands for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I know. I had no illusions, even then. What we had was just – a fling. I'm not proud of what I did." She folded her hands in her lap and looked directly at Logan, apparently finished with her story.

"Aren't you leaving something out? What about the whole dead, love-child thing?" Logan said.

"What?" Heather stared at Logan, incredulously. "Oh my God. Are you talking about those bones they found at Hearst? You think that was me?" She let out a hysterical laugh. "I almost wish it had been … I've never been pregnant. It seems I _can't_ get pregnant. It was the main reason my marriage ended. My husband wanted his own flesh and blood children, and when I couldn't deliver, he bailed."

The ring of truth in her words shamed Logan into silence. "That's … I'm sorry," he finally sputtered.

She smiled grimly. "It's okay. He was a shit. I'm actually glad to be rid of him."

"Do you know of anyone else my father might've … been with, around that same time?"

Heather shook her head slowly. "No, I'm afraid not. We were together very briefly and … Wait … It's probably nothing, but we were at a café once, and he saw a woman he knew – thin, dark brown hair, glasses. He went over to her table and they spoke for a while, and when he came back, he was cagey about the whole thing. But I think he said he went to school with her."

Logan thanked her and stood to leave. Dick reluctantly followed suit, telling Heather he'd give her a call that night. As Logan was getting into the car, she called his name and he turned.

"You know, Neptune is a small town, especially if you're rich," Heather said. "I used to run into your parents at parties all the time. Thankfully, Aaron didn't remember me, but I saw how he treated your mom. He wasn't … a nice man, even when I knew him. I know I've said you look a lot like him and it's true. But you have kinder eyes."

Logan smiled and waved goodbye, sinking into the Porsche's Italian leather seat. He couldn't help thinking that of all Dick's girlfriends, Heather was the only one Logan actually liked.

By the time Dick dropped him off at the Grande, his head was throbbing from a night of restless sleep and caffeine withdrawal. He decided he wasn't going to make it through the day without coffee and headed over to the Hut. He was waiting for his to-go order when he glanced around the room and spotted Christina sitting alone at a table, sipping a frothy, iced concoction and flipping through a fashion magazine.

The barista handed Logan his coffee and he made his way to Christina's table to say hello. "Logan! Oh my God, I was totally thinking about you. Do you have some time? I'd love to catch up," she gushed, her face breaking into a warm smile.

He hesitated, about to decline, but remembered his resolve to move on and sat down across from the brunette. "Thanks. How's your summer been going?" he asked, taking a sip from his steaming beverage.

Christina briefly summarized the past couple of months, explaining she'd taken some classes to catch up on units and spent the rest of the summer working at a temp agency to make a little spending money for the year. After a pause, she added, "I read about what's been going on with your dad. I'm so sorry, Logan. All of this has got to be really hard on you, especially on top of …" Christina's voice trailed off as if she realized she'd said too much.

"On top of what?"

"Oh God. I have such a big mouth. I just meant … Well, I heard you and your girlfriend broke up."

"Oh. That. Yeah, things just didn't work out. But it's good to know Neptune's gossip mills are still in tip-top shape," Logan said, relieved he hadn't missed some other calamity.

"Well, I do try to stay informed about current events. Especially when it comes to tall, dark and handsome college boys," Christina joked. She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. "But seriously, Logan, I know it doesn't seem like it, but I am a pretty good listener if you feel like venting."

Logan stared at Christina, noticing for the first time how pretty she was. Although her friends reminded him of all the saccharine'09er girls he'd mostly spurned in high school, there was a genuineness about Christina that he'd always liked. Even after he'd rejected her advances, she'd seemed sincerely interested in being his friend.

"Look, a friend of mine is having a party tonight on her father's yacht and I'd love for you to be there," she broke into his thoughts. "I'm guessing you could really use a night out. It'll be fun, I promise."

Logan floundered, unsure what to say. "It sounds fun. But, Christina – I don't want to …"

"Lead me on?" She smiled. "That's sweet, but you don't need to worry about me, Logan. I'm a big girl and I know the score. I just happen to think you might be worth the risk. And if nothing else, I could always use a study buddy."

Logan laughed, leaning forward. "Have you seen my grades?" He was about to accept her offer, when he glanced up to see Veronica striding into the coffee house. Their eyes met and she faltered for barely a moment before changing course and walking over to their table.

"Wow, it's like déjà vu all over again," Veronica said a smile fixed on her face. "Hey, Logan. Christina. So, how's the coffee of the day?"

Christina picked up her purse, scooting her chair back. "Here, take my seat, Veronica. I've got to run, anyway. I didn't realize it was so late. About that party, Logan – can you make it?"

"Yeah, it sounds like fun. Where's it at?"

She pulled out a pen, scribbling something on one of the napkins and handed it to him. "The marina. Here's my number. Give me a call and we can go together. It was nice seeing you again, Veronica." She waved goodbye and quickly left the café.

Logan watched Christina leave, turning back just in time to catch Veronica rolling her eyes as she sat down and picked up the napkin.

"At least this one doesn't dot her i's with hearts and flowers," she said, dryly, handing it to him.

"Jealous, Veronica?" he baited her, unable to resist a smug grin. He knew full well that even if she were, she'd never cop to it.

But Veronica surprised him. Looking down at her hands, she flushed and said, "Maybe a little."

Logan's mouth dropped open in surprise, but before he could formulate a response, she rushed on. "I've been trying to reach you. Have you heard the news?"

"Uh, no. I don't think so. Dick came home this morning and we went to talk to his girlfriend. Why? What's going on?"

"You went to see Heather Sutton alone? Logan, what if she was dangerous? She could've had a gun."

"Do you have wax in your ears? I just said Dick was with me. And why would Heather have a gun?"

Veronica sat back and bit her lip. "Logan, your father's old agent Harvey Greenblatt is dead. He was found in his office a few days ago with a bullet in his head. Lamb thinks he killed himself, but his wife is trying to prove he was murdered. She hired my dad to help her."

Logan felt sick with dread as a terrible sense of foreboding came over him. "Do you think there's a connection?" he asked carefully, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

"I don't know. His wife is a total gold digger. She's made it perfectly clear that she just wants to collect the life insurance money, which hardly makes her a trustworthy judge of whether or not he was suicidal," Veronica answered, watching Logan's face. "But, it does seem like an odd coincidence. This _is_ Neptune."

"I know. Nothing happens accidentally," Logan finished grimly.

They fell silent as Logan drained the last of his coffee. "So, did you learn anything from Heather Sutton?" Veronica finally asked.

"Well, for starters, she couldn't have been the mother." Logan reported what he'd discovered, including Heather's story about the mystery woman in the café. "I guess she could be lying about not being able to have a kid, but there was something in her voice … _I_ believed her, anyway."

Veronica nodded, mulling over what he'd told her. "I suppose we could check out her story. There might be medical records, or there could be something in their divorce settlement. We should talk to my dad and see if he has any ideas."

They left Java the Hut after Veronica ordered a cup of hot chocolate to go. When they arrived at Mars Investigations, Keith was in his office leaning back in his chair and reading a file. "Is that the sheriff's report on Harvey Greenblatt?" Veronica asked, rounding the desk to peer over her father's shoulder.

"Hello to you, too, darling daughter of mine." Keith said, shutting the file and holding it out of her reach. "Hi, Logan. What are you two up to? Please tell me you're doing something normal like going to the mall, or a malt shop."

Logan's lips curled in amusement . "Not unless you have a time machine," he said dryly. I'm pretty sure the last malt shop in America closed 40 years ago, Mr. Mars."

"Don't mind him. His mind is caught in a permanent time warp. He still thinks the Bee Gees are hip," Veronica told Logan. "Come on, Dad. What's in the report? You might as well spill now, because you know I'll find out one way or another."

Keith heaved an exasperated sigh and handed the file to his daughter. "There isn't much. Greenblatt's death was ruled a suicide, but from what little there is in the report, I'd say it was a pretty shoddy investigation. It could go either way, I suppose, but it just doesn't sit right with me."

"What do you mean?" Logan asked.

"Well, Harvey Greenblatt was on top of his game. He represented a slew of A-list stars and he was making money hand over fist. There were no signs of depression, or marital strife per se. Seems they were both sleeping around, so he wasn't suffering from a broken heart. And then there's his vacation plans. He booked a European Cruise just two days before he died."

"So what you're saying is, you don't think Greenblatt's death was a suicide," Veronica said.

"No, honey. I don't. But I have no way of proving it."

Chilled, Logan slowly lowered himself onto one of the office chairs and began rubbing his forehead. "It can't be a coincidence. Harvey was responsible for launching my dad's career. He'd been his agent since before Aaron got his first acting gig. They were pretty tight. If anyone knew about Aaron fathering an illegitimate child, it would've been him. And now he's dead."

"Obviously, Aaron couldn't have killed him," Keith said. "Which means, it's entirely possible he didn't kill your brother, either. The real murderer could still be on the loose. I want you kids to stay away from this, you hear? I mean it, Veronica. Someone might be out there shooting people who get too close to the truth and I won't have you getting in the line of fire. Same goes for you, Logan."

Keith stood and picked up his briefcase. "I have to break the news to Mrs. Greenblatt. She's not going to be happy to hear she won't be getting any insurance money," he said, giving Veronica a quick hug. "I've got a stakeout tonight, so I'll be home late, honey. You two behave."

The front office door had barely clicked shut when Veronica began rummaging through her father's files. Logan watched, shaking his head. "It's good to know I'm not the only man in your life you spy on. Veronica, what the hell are you doing?"

"Looking for an address," she answered, riffling through a stack of papers. "When Harvey first started working with your dad, he was with some big agency in L.A, which is where all his old files are stored. He didn't start his own firm until years later. Maybe if I can get a look at those records, we can figure out who the baby's mother is."

Logan swore. He started to remind Veronica of her father's warning, but stopped knowing he'd be wasting his breath. "Let me guess. You're going to break in." When she didn't answer, he stood and faced her across the desk. "I'll take that as a yes. I'm going with you."

"Please. I can do this kind of thing in my sleep. Besides, don't you have a date tonight?"

"Veronica, didn't you hear a word your father said? Whoever did this is desperate, and will stop at nothing to hide the truth. For God's sakes, two people have already been killed. If you do this, I'm coming with you."

Veronica pursed her lips stubbornly, pointing her finger at him. "No. You're not. I don't need a babysitter, Logan."

"Weren't you just lecturing me about talking to Heather Sutton without you?" he tried reasoning.

"That's different. You have no idea what you're doing."

"And you do? I've lost count of how many times I've had to save your skinny ass after you charged head first into some sketchy situation."

"Logan, I …"

"No. I'm dead serious, Veronica." Logan braced his fists on the desk and leaned forward so his face was inches from hers. "Either I go with you, or … I'll tell your father."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Veronica glared at him, but said nothing, a sure sign he'd won the battle. "Fine," she huffed. "You can be the muscle. Just remember, I'm in charge."

Together they searched for the name and address of Harvey Greenblatt's former agency and, a half-an-hour later Veronica shouted in triumph. "Found it. Looks like its near downtown L.A. on Wilshire. It's going to take us at least a couple of hours to get there. We should leave early to try and beat the traffic."

Logan nodded, moving closer to read the paper in her hand. "Okay. When should we go?"

She shrugged. "You know, we could postpone this another night. That way you can still go on your date, and we won't have to deal with Friday night traffic."

"As touched as I am by your concern for my love life, it's really not necessary. We'll go tonight. You didn't actually think I would fall for that, did you, Veronica?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Right. I've known you since we were twelve. I know how your devious little mind works. While I'm busy getting it on, you're going to be committing a felony B&E."

"'Getting it on?' Really, Logan. You're gonna charm the socks off her."

"I'll pick you up at four. And Veronica? Just in case you're thinking of leaving early, I've got your Dad's number on speed dial."

Logan sensed Veronica was still miffed hours later when they were in bumper-to-bumper traffic on I-5 to L.A., but he didn't give a damn. He hadn't been able to shake his anxiety over Harvey Greenblatt's death, and he couldn't help thinking it was a bad omen, suicide or not. Her father's warning might have bounced off Veronica, but it had scared the shit out of Logan. He wasn't going to let anyone hurt her, especially not over some investigation into yet another one of his asshole father's sins.

He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and pressed down on the accelerator. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Veronica turn sharply towards him, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

"So what did Christina say when you had to cancel your date?" she said conversationally. "She wasn't mad, was she?"

Her question brought a small smirk to his face. "Boy, you really are a nosy one, aren't you? No, she wasn't mad. I just told her the truth."

"…You what?"

"Relax. I only said something came up with my father's case. I'm about to commit a felony here, Veronica. It's not like I'm planning to make an announcement."

"Oh."

Logan pulled off the freeway and drove down Wilshire Boulevard, passing the Federal Building and Westwood Village as he headed east towards downtown Los Angeles. The talent agency, one of the largest in the country, was located in a gleaming glass building overlooking the famed Miracle Mile.

Veronica directed him to an underground garage, where he parked his SUV in a darkened space furthest away from the security cameras. A few minutes later, she had picked their way into the reception area. She was working the lock into the inner offices when Logan thought he heard a muffled noise in the hallway.

Roughly, he clapped his hand over Veronica's mouth and shoved her into a nearby closet. A bucket and mop took up most of the tiny enclosure's space, forcing Logan to press Veronica against the wall. They could hear footsteps just outside the door, as a security guard made his rounds. Slowly, Logan lowered his hand and peered at Veronica in the darkness. He could feel her heart pounding along with his own, and even in the dim light he caught a flicker of – something – in her eyes.

It wasn't long before the security guard's steps faded away and they heard the door to the reception area banging closed. Logan let out a relieved breath as they spilled out of the broom closet. He flashed Veronica and I-told-you-so look and she rolled her eyes.

"Okay. I'm big enough to admit when I'm wrong. You proved yourself useful. I'm glad you were here," she said, resuming her efforts to pick the inner office lock. "Although, I don't appreciate you dragging my father into this."

"Yeah, well, I'm not above emotional blackmail. Asking nicely and sheer force of will never work with you."

That last comment earned him another Veronica Mars eyeroll, as they began opening and closing doors, looking for the file room. The small, unlocked office at the end of the hall was filled with wall to wall cabinet drawers. Logan groaned. "Please say you bribed someone to tell you which drawer has what we need."

Veronica shook her head. "Let's just hope these are organized in some sort of chronological order, or we'll be here all night. You take that side of the room, and I'll take this one."

They worked in silence, both intent on finding what they needed and getting out of there. An hour later, Logan stretched and rubbed his neck, glancing at Veronica who was engrossed in an open file. "Find something?" he asked.

"Yeah. Do you have any idea how much Tom Cruise got for Mission Impossible III?" she exclaimed. "No wonder Katie Holmes married him."

Logan gave her a dirty look and opened another drawer. After a quick survey, he realized he'd finally stumbled onto the right time period. "Got it," he said in a loud whisper.

In a flash, Veronica shut her drawer and was by his side. Together they combed the cabinet until she found Harvey Greenblatt's files. Reading between the lines and dozens of parking receipts, the records showed that 20 years ago, Harvey was a struggling young talent agent who'd made a practice of scouting out new clients by visiting some of the area colleges. He struck gold when he "discovered" Aaron Echolls in a series of one-act plays put on by the Hearst Drama Department in 1978.

The agent walked away with another client that day – an actress by the name of Glory Pembroke. "Never heard of her," Logan muttered. "Guess she didn't do so well." A few more minutes of searching produced another file that proved him right. For years, Glory Pembroke trekked from audition to audition, only landing a few small parts on some little known television shows. The last page in the file was an 8 by 10 headshot of the Hollywood hopeful, who never managed to score her big break.

Logan and Veronica gaped down at the glamour shot. Glory's golden, feathered hair framed a finely sculptured face they recognized instantly. "Oh my God," Logan blurted. "It's the groovy chick – the one with my dad in the library photo."

Veronica clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "Just goes to show, you can never trust a girl in hot pants."

"As I recall, you wanted a pair just like them," he murmured.

She was grinning as she stuffed the files in her bag. They quietly snuck past the guard and crept through the deserted building until they reached Logan's SUV. By then it was almost midnight, and the freeway was clear. While Logan drove, Veronica squinted at the stolen files in the passing light from the road, until he reached over and grabbed them.

"You'll ruin your eyes," he told her. "There's nothing in there that can't wait until we get back to Neptune." He saw her flop back into the Land Rover's plush, leather seat and added, "No pouting."

A few minutes later, Veronica spoke in a soft, tentative voice. "So, is it serious?"

Confused, Logan frowned. "Is what serious?"

"You and … Christina."

Logan hesitated, considering his words carefully. "We're just friends, Veronica. Tonight wasn't even really supposed to be a date."

They drove in comfortable silence until Veronica fell asleep. She was snoring lightly when Logan pulled into her apartment complex and he gave her a gentle nudge. "Wake up Sleeping Beauty. We're home."

Except for a droopy-eyed Backup, the apartment was empty when she unlocked the door and threw it open to let Logan in. "Guess Dad is still on his stakeout," she said, crossing into her room where she promptly dumped the files on the desk. "You might as well make yourself comfortable. We could be here a while."

Logan grabbed a couple of the folders, including Glory Pembroke's, and sat down on the bed, where Backup quickly joined him. Scratching the dog's neck, he lounged on the bed, leaning on his elbow as he skimmed the pages. "Here's something," he said, sitting up. "Apparently, Harvey pulled some strings and got Glory a small part in 'The Pursuit of Happiness.'"

"The movie he made with your mom? Isn't that how your parents met?"

"Yeah. I guess it didn't work out so great for Glory, though. She only had a few scenes and they all ended up on the cutting room floor. There's nothing after that. Looks like she decided to quit acting."

"…To have a kid," Veronica supplied, studying a paper in her hand. "There's a receipt here for a sterling silver baby rattle from Tiffany. Harvey bought it for Glory in January of 1988. He claimed it as a tax write-off."

"So they had an affair while they were both at Hearst, and just picked up again when she was working on his movie," Logan surmised. "Glory was probably so besotted with Aaron, she thought he'd actually marry her when she got pregnant … But do you think she could kill her own son?"

"Unless she confesses, we may never know who killed him, or what really happened."

Logan nodded, his face troubled. "What I don't get is how she managed to explain why she suddenly didn't have a kid anymore. There was no body. Wouldn't her family wonder where he was?"

"Maybe she didn't have any family," Veronica answered. "And even if she did, Glory could've told them she put him for adoption, or gave the father custody. She probably never told anyone it was Aaron's baby."

"And give up millions in child support? It doesn't track. And how did Harvey get involved?"

"Glory was probably afraid Harvey would put two and two together once it came out that you and the dead boy were a genetic match. As far as we know, he's the only one who can ID her as the mother."

Logan sighed. "So I guess the case is solved then?"

"Yeah, pretty much," she answered, a little vaguely. "I'll probably give these to my dad and let him track down Glory Pembroke."

Logan got up from the bed, where Backup was snoring loudly, and dropped his folders on top of the stack already sitting on Veronica's desk. "It's late. I should get out of here before your dad comes home." His eyes fell on the Hearst fall schedule of classes and he picked it up, flipping through the pages.

"Have you registered for classes yet?" Veronica asked.

"Uh, no. I'm actually thinking of taking a semester off, maybe doing some traveling or something," he answered after a pause.

"What? Why?"

"Things are really crazy. The press is hounding me about this whole thing with my father, and it's just going to get worse," he shrugged. "Besides, it seems like a waste of money for me right now. It's not like I even know what I want to do."

"Since when have you cared about not wasting money?" Veronica said heatedly, her voice rising. "Don't you think that maybe you should stay in school and find something you enjoy doing, so you can be, I dunno, a productive, _contributing_ member of society?"

Hurt mingled with Logan's flaring temper and he glared at her, his voice low and furious. "Because, otherwise, I'm what? Just another 'millionaire playboy'? Or, wait. I know. A 'Neanderthal jackass' who nails everything in a skirt, just like his old man." Seeing something flicker in her eyes, he realized he'd hit a nerve. "That's it, huh? You figured I was cheating on you. Like father, like son, right? So you decided to even the score by kissing Piz."

"Logan, no …"

But he didn't hear her. He stalked to the door and yanked it open before turning back to face her. "Why the hell did you even go out with me in the first place, Veronica? Was it just gratitude?"

When she could only stare at him in mute shock, Logan shook his head, the anger evaporating as quickly as it had sparked. "Never mind. It's not like it matters anymore." He left, and moments later the apartment door shut with a soft bang.

Logan ended the long, exhausting day the same way it began, laying on his bed staring up at the ceiling, thoughts of Veronica torturing his tired brain. Before finally drifting off to sleep, he vowed to break out of her orbit once and for all.

The first thing Logan did when he woke the next morning was call Christina. She'd left a message on the hotel phone inviting him to a bonfire at Dog Beach later in the week. After apologizing again for having to bail on her at the last minute, Logan arranged to pick her up before the beachside bash. By the time they hung up, his dark mood had lifted a little and he decided it was time to mount Phase II in his "moving on" plan.

A few hours later, he was sweating in a cement and aluminum enclosure smaller than the bathroom in his old house, as he tried to sort through boxes of his father's movie memorabilia, awards and personal papers. In the end, Logan decided to take most of the stuff back to the suite where he could go through everything more carefully. He hauled several boxes to his truck as well as most of his mother's paintings, then locked up and headed back to the Grande.

After a quick shower and burger from room service, he settled onto the couch and began riffling through the boxes. His first impulse was to trash all of the ridiculous mementos glorying Aaron's Hollywood career, but he knew they'd fetch a pretty penny in an auction and decided to donate everything to a worthy charity instead. At least this way, his father's pitiful excuse for a life would amount to one good thing, Logan thought.

The next box contained personal papers, everything from Trina's adoption records to contractors' agreements for work on the house. He set aside the adoption file to send to Trina and discarded the rest. He was about to dump the empty box, when a loose scrap of paper wedged under a flap, slipped out.

It was a cancelled check from December of '87 for $2,000. When he saw who Aaron had written the check to, a chill pierced his heart. "Oh, God," Logan breathed, the room beginning to spin.

Morgan Kennedy.

Frantic, Logan tossed apart the living room hunting for his mother's scrapbook album, until he found the photo taken in front of the Hearst library. The tall, thin coed had been almost hidden in the picture, but her hair and glasses were clearly visible. She fit the description of the woman Heather Sutton had seen in the café with Aaron. The passage of time had transformed the wiry college girl into a formidable, statuesque woman – one who was about to become the next president of Hearst College.

Suddenly, everything made sense. She'd barely blinked when Logan had approached her about getting a late acceptance to Hearst, not even when he'd sheepishly handed over his high school transcripts. He'd waited expectantly for a donation request that never came. Just before he left for Tahoe, he'd seen her standing nervously over the construction site where the bones were discovered weeks later.

And just like that, Logan knew Morgan Kennedy had buried that poor, dead little boy – her own child – in an unmarked grave on the college campus. She'd probably killed him, and then shot Harvey Greenblatt nearly 20 years later, just to hide her shameful secret.

He was still reeling from the shock as he reached for the phone to dial Veronica's number. After several rings, her voice mail picked up and Logan left a message. "Veronica I need to talk to you," he said urgently. "Please. It's important. It's about the case." He hung up and rushed out the door to search for her.

The other night, when Veronica said she would let Keith take over, she'd been noncommittal and he'd foolishly believed her. But now, Logan realized, she was probably off somewhere trying to locate Glory Pembroke – by herself. He tried to think of where she'd go, and the answer made him sick with desperation.

He jumped in the Range Rover and sped towards Hearst, using one hand to call Keith. He almost wept with relief when Veronica's father answered the phone. "Mr. Mars. I don't have time to explain, but I think Veronica could be in danger. She's probably at the Hearst administration building. I'm headed there now."

"I'm on my way. Wait for me outside. That's an order, Logan," Keith commanded, but Logan had already hung up.

Minutes later, he screeched to a halt in front of the admin building. It was late on a Saturday afternoon and the parking lot was empty, except for two cars – Veronica's silver Saturn and a black, BMW sedan. With dread in his heart, Logan ran to the heavy, wooden double doors and grasped one of the handles. He gave it a tug and the unlocked door opened without protest. This was not a good sign.

Quietly, he crept along the halls towards the assistant dean's office, stopping just outside the reception area when he heard voices. "Oh my God, what are you doing?" He could hear Veronica's fear.

"That asshole, Aaron Echolls, nearly ruined my life and I've been working my ass off ever since to get to where I am," a woman's deep, throaty voice spat out. "I'm not going to let anyone destroy what I've built, least of all Aaron's _son_ and his snoopy twit of a girlfriend.

"Did you know we were lovers? It was off and on for _years_. I loved him, but he just couldn't keep it in his pants. I kept thinking someday he'd give up the bimbos, until he went and _married_ one of them. But by then, I was already six months pregnant with his bastard and it was too late for me to have an abortion.

"Even after he'd married Lynn, he promised he'd leave her as soon as their child was born. Said he wanted to give Logan the Echolls name, and like a fool, I believed him. Andrew, that was my son's name, was two-and-half before Aaron finally admitted that he had no intention of leaving Lynn. I was enraged a - and, Andrew wouldn't stop _screaming_. I – I didn't mean to hit him so hard," she said, her voice breaking.

Logan risked a quick peek around the corner, terror stabbing him at the sight: About twelve feet away from him, Veronica stood next to a desk, fear and surprise written clearly on her face. From across the room, Morgan Kennedy aimed a gun directly at her.

"NO!" Without thinking, he rushed into the room, knocking Veronica to the ground and shielding her body with his own, a split second after the assistant dean pulled the trigger. The deafening shot ricocheted off the office walls, and the sound mingled with Veronica's scream.

Suddenly winded by a searing pain in his shoulder, Logan was surprised to find his arm slick with a wet, sticky substance – his blood. He was already feeling dizzy, but managed to roll off Veronica, who crawled into a nearby office, half pulling him with her. She slammed the door shut, locking it and jamming a chair up against the knob before kneeling beside him.

Using a large, metal desk as a barricade, Veronica hastily removed her jacket and pressed it to the back of his shoulder trying to staunch the flow of blood. "What the hell were you _thinking_?" she muttered, blinking back tears.

Logan pushed her hands away, and rasped, "Run."

"Logan, you've been shot! I can't just leave you here. I won't."

"I called your dad. He's on his way. Go out the window … get help."

"Shut up and be still. I'm not leaving you, Logan. Now just hold this. I've got to find some kind of weapon." She frantically searched the room until she found a heavy glass trophy with sharp edges, roughly the size of a softball. "Stay behind the desk," she whispered.

Logan struggled to stay conscious, even as the pain became unbearable. He watched helplessly as Veronica disappeared through another door into an adjoining office. Heels clacked on the hardwood floor, stopping just outside. The knob jiggled and another shot sounded as Morgan Kennedy fired into the door, blasting away the lock.

Heavy footsteps pounded swiftly nearby and dimly, Logan heard Keith shouting their names. There was a sickening crack, then a series of thuds followed by Veronica's clear voice. "Dad! We're over here! I'm okay, but Logan needs an ambulance. Hurry!"

Veronica was safe.

Relieved, his eyelids began to slide shut and suddenly, she was by his side, grasping his hand and calling his name as he slipped into darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Veronica**

Veronica hated hospitals.

She despised the constant cacophony of beeping machines, groaning patients and squeaky gurneys being wheeled through the halls at all hours. She loathed the arrogant doctors who blithely reported devastating news as if ticking off baseball scores. And she gagged at the stinging smell of disinfectant that couldn't quite dispel the odor of death.

But most of all Veronica hated the fact that Logan had been lying prone on a narrow hospital bed in the Intensive Care Unit for two agonizing days.

She'd been by his side nearly the entire time, leaving briefly only after her father promised to stay with Logan, insisting she go home and get some rest. When she stripped out of her clothes and saw the blood staining her t-shirt and jeans, she'd heaved into the toilet until the only thing left in her stomach were the tears she'd swallowed.

Now, Veronica searched Logan's too pale face for some signs of consciousness – of life. His usually strong, virile body seemed frighteningly frail amidst the sterile, institutional hospital blankets, with tubes and wires hooking him up to machines and his entire left side swathed in white bandages.

The rise and fall of his chest was barely visible, and Veronica was appalled by the faint, erratic beeping of his heart monitor. She clasped his cold hands in hers, willing him to get better.

After hours of surgery, a doctor had finally emerged from behind a pair of swinging double doors looking for Logan's next of kin. Keith was still trying to locate Trina, but it didn't really matter. Logan had listed Veronica as his person to call in case of emergency on his health insurance forms. She burst into tears when a hospital social worker calmly explained the situation. As she sobbed in her father's arms, she thought, Logan deserved better kin than a faithless ex-girlfriend who was responsible for him getting shot in the first place.

The doctor's prognosis hadn't been encouraging. The bullet entered Logan's back near his shoulder blade, piercing one lung and lodging perilously close to his heart. An artery had been severed and he would've bled to death if there had been even the slightest delay getting to the hospital. He was in a great deal of pain, controlled only by the morphine dripping into his arm. The surgical team had managed to remove the bullet, but it was still touch-and-go whether Logan would live.

Tortured, Veronica kept going over what happened in the Hearst administration building again and again in her mind, wishing she'd done things differently.

After their last bitter fight, she'd lain curled in her bed, his angry accusations ringing in her ears. But instead of going to him the next day to explain, to try and assure him that her feelings for him were genuine, she'd avoided the uncomfortable confrontation and broken into the Hearst administration building, looking for Glory Pembroke's student records.

She had expected all the offices to be deserted, so she was startled when she heard the telltale creak of an opening door followed by a woman's voice calling her name. At first, it didn't occur to her to be frightened by the sight of Morgan Kennedy coolly walking towards her. She was more worried about coming up with a story convincing enough to explain why she was pawing through confidential files in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. Even after she saw the glint of metal, it was several moments before she realized the assistant dean was pointing a gun at her.

Too late, Veronica began to understand her deadly mistake as the older woman spat a bitter tirade of unrequited love, lust and unbearable shame. No one even knows I'm here, she despaired, desperately searching for a way out. She thought she'd imagined Logan's anguished cry, until he suddenly appeared out of nowhere. In the instant before his body hit hers, she was struck by an absurd thought. _He's like my very own knight in shining armor._

But in all the fairytales she'd ever read the white knight never got shot.

He had literally rushed in front of the bullet meant for her. Veronica didn't scream until she felt the sudden jerk of Logan's body. It took all her strength to fight back the panic when she realized the growing dampness already seeping through her shirt was blood – _Logan's blood_.

After she helped him crawl into one of the inner offices, she did what she could to stop the bleeding, pressing her rolled-up jacket against the gushing wound. But Logan pushed her away, telling her to run, as if she could ever leave him to face Morgan Kennedy alone. Even as he lay bleeding on the floor, the always impulsive, brash and fiercely protective Logan was still trying to save _her_.

Praying the heavy, metal desk would protect him long enough for her to get help or disarm Morgan Kennedy, Veronica slipped through a door to the adjoining office and cautiously peeked out into the outer reception area. In one hand, she clutched the sharp-edged, glass globe – the only weapon she'd been able to find. From her vantage point several feet away, she could see the assistant dean fire a second shot into the locked door.

Somehow, above the blast of the gun, Veronica heard Keith's rapidly approaching voice shouting for her and Logan. It distracted the crazed woman only momentarily, but it was long enough for Veronica to lob the heavy trophy at her. With a crack, it struck Morgan Kennedy on the side of her head and the woman's unconscious body fell to the floor with a thud.

Veronica grabbed the gun, yelling at her father to call for an ambulance, as she ran into the office where she'd left Logan. Her jacket was drenched in his blood, which had begun to pool on the floor around him and Logan's barely open eyes were unfocussed. Tears streamed down her face as she kneeled beside him, grasping his limp hand in hers.

"Logan, my dad is getting help. Please, just hang on. I – I just need you to stay with me, okay?" she whispered.

But Logan was already unconscious.

"Veronica. Honey, go home. I can take over for a while. You can come back and see Logan in the morning," Keith said gently, giving her a small hug.

She nodded, reluctantly releasing Logan's hand. "I just don't understand how he figured it out. How did he know who the killer was? That I was … in danger?" she wondered out loud for the hundredth time.

With a sigh, Keith shook his head and tightened his arms around Veronica. "I don't know, honey. You'll just have to ask Logan when he's better."

_If he gets better_.

She choked back a sob at the dark thought, frantic that merely thinking such a horrible thing would make it a reality. Veronica glanced at Logan one more time before picking up her bag and leaving Keith to watch over him. But instead of going back home to the empty apartment, Veronica drove aimlessly through the streets of Neptune trying to burn off two days' worth of restless energy, until she finally ended up at the Neptune Grande.

She swiped her key card and shoved open the door to Logan's suite, shocked by the sight that greeted her. The living room was in total disarray. A stack of boxes were piled neatly against one wall, while several others were tipped over, their contents scattered across the floor and on the couch. Papers were everywhere and for a minute, Veronica thought someone had broken in until she realized he had probably made the mess.

"Logan, you'd better get your scrawny ass back here ASAP, 'cause there's no way I'm going to pick up this mess," she muttered out loud in the empty suite.

But curiosity won out. Veronica righted the boxes and began carefully organizing what appeared to be Trina's adoption records, contractors' agreements, invoices and receipts. Logan must've been going through these just before he came looking for me, she thought. Frantically, she sifted through every sheet of paper until she spotted the scrapbook, which lay open on the couch, the photo in front of the library plainly visible. She lifted the book and something fluttered to the floor.

Veronica bent to pick up the small piece of paper. After a quick examination, she suddenly understood what had sent Logan racing after her that horrible day. While she'd been recklessly pursuing Glory Pembroke, certain she had the killer, Logan accidentally stumbled on to the truth. He'd gone searching for her, heedlessly ignoring the danger. Only, unlike Veronica, he wasn't interested in solving some case. Logan risked his life to save hers.

Wracked by guilt, Veronica was tortured by the thought that Logan might die without ever knowing she loved him.

_After all, how could he possibly know?_ Veronica had been running from love ever since Lilly died, stingily doling out her affections to only a handful of people. She'd given her body to Logan, but always, selfishly withheld her heart – the one thing he truly wanted. She didn't trust the vagaries of love. She'd seen firsthand what twisted and mutated actions it inspired, and had vowed long ago never to be consumed by the wasted, traitorous emotion. And with the exception of her father, Veronica hadn't uttered those three little words to another soul. Not Duncan and certainly not Logan.

But Logan had somehow wormed his way into her heart, despite her best efforts keep him at a safe distance. Although Veronica tried to deny it, for months, some part of her had known she had fallen in love with this reformed bad boy whose heart beat fierce and true.

Her feelings for Logan made what she had with Duncan seem like puppy love. She didn't know when it had happened, but Logan had become everything to her: he brought passion and heat into her life, along with comfortable companionship. Logan knew her as no one ever had – and loved her anyway.

So she ran.

Logan had told her he loved her and she'd responded by turning away and picking fights. She'd broken his heart by giving in to her insecurities and fears of being betrayed and abandoned. Instead of following her heart, she'd listened to Weevil of all people, letting him stir her doubts until the warring voices within her manifested into nightmares.

Too late, she realized her terrifying dreams hadn't been about what Duncan and Cassidy had done to her at Shelly Pomroy's party, or even about the campus rapist. Each nightmare had been triggered by fleeting thoughts of love that set off alarms within her very soul. Her subconscious was protecting her from falling in love and becoming vulnerable to heartache. In the end, Veronica had betrayed Logan before he could hurt her.

Veronica ran from love, while brave Logan loved freely and without reservation. It's what baffled her most about him. His entire life, the people who were supposed to love him failed him miserably, and yet he was still capable of loving unconditionally.

And, though he craved it, Logan never asked to be loved in return.

It was as if all those years of living with an abusive father and a mother too helpless to fend for herself, let alone properly care for her son, had conditioned him into accepting leftover scraps of affection. _Did he think he was unworthy, or somehow inherently unlovable?_ He had to know the people who claimed to love him, but always fell short, were the truly flawed ones – not him.

Veronica wiped furiously at the tears spilling from her eyes, despising herself for not telling Logan she loved him when she had the chance. She hated that the last time they spoke, they were fighting and as usual, it had been her fault. She'd been consumed by jealousy ever since she'd seen him with Christina and panicked when he told her he was quitting school to travel. The only reason he was even speaking to her was because she'd managed to entangle him in the stupid case. But in her heart, she knew if he left Neptune again, there would be no way to stop him from slipping out of her life for good.

She should have let him go. If she had, maybe he would've found a girl who could love him the way he deserved to be loved, not lying in a hospital bed, struggling to live. He'd had a chance to escape Neptune and all its sad memories, a chance to find happiness. But she'd ruined it for him.

Wearily, Veronica wandered into Logan's room, where she curled up on his bed, wrapping herself in his blankets and inhaling the familiar scent of him still lingering on the sheets and pillows. The pleasant mix of spicy aftershave, sunscreen and salty, ocean air made Veronica's heart ache at his absence, and her violent sobs shook the bed until she finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

In the morning, she woke to the sound of voices. Throwing back the covers, Veronica rushed into the living room, expecting, just for an instant, to see Logan smirking at her. But it was just Dick – and Christina.

"Jeez, Ronnie, what the hell did you do to the place?" Dick said, gesturing to the ransacked room. "And by the way, you look like shit."

Ignoring his comment, Veronica asked anxiously, "Has there been any change?"

Dick glared at her and started to speak, but Christina laid a hand on his arm. "We don't know, Veronica," she said kindly. "They won't let us see him. We were actually hoping you could help us."

"Oh. Right. Of course." Veronica checked the time, her heart sinking as she realized how long she'd been away from the hospital. "Let me just get washed up and we can go," she said, turning towards the bathroom.

In less than an hour, their steps were echoing along the cold hospital hallways as Veronica led Dick and Christina to Logan's room in the Intensive Care Unit. Keith was snoozing in a chair next to his bed, but he woke up the moment they walked in.

"Sorry I was gone so long, Dad. How is he?" Veronica walked to Logan's beside, studying his face as she stroked his hand.

Keith stood and stretched. "Hi guys," he said to the newcomers, before turning to Veronica. "He's still the same, honey. Hanging in there."

She nodded and introduced Keith to Dick and Christina. "They wanted to see Logan," she explained. "Why don't we get some coffee and let them visit with him for a while."

Later that morning, when everyone was gone and she was alone with Logan, Veronica held his hand hoping it comforted him as much as it did her.

"So here's the deal, Logan. You have to get better, do you hear me? You don't honestly think you could get away from me this easily, do you? Because this thing between us? It's not over – not by a long shot."

Tears spilled down her face as she pressed his hand to her cheek. "Please don't leave me, Logan. You've got to know how much I need you."

It was dark outside, the sun having set hours earlier, and Veronica was dozing lightly, when the machines by Logan's beside began emitting a series of piercing beeps and high-pitched wails. Within moments, doctors and nurses flooded the hospital room, pushing a dazed Veronica out of the way.

She heard one of them say something about his heart monitor flatlining. Veronica reached for him, but a pair of strong arms held her back as she shouted Logan's name.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Logan**

Logan was trapped in a haze of pain and morphine, unable to understand the voices around him or grasp the comforting hand that clung to his. The black, numbing darkness was his only solace, his only escape, and so he allowed himself to be carried away into oblivion.

_He dreamed about his old home in L.A. He could hear sounds emanating from the kitchen, and felt compelled to follow the heady aroma of warm vanilla and sugar wafting throughout the house. Logan walked quickly along the long hallway and down the stairs, rushing around the corner into the kitchen, where his mother had just taken a batch of cookies out of the oven._

_Quietly, he watched as she expertly spooned dollops of dough onto the baking sheet. Her soft, brown curls were held away from her face by a tortoise shell headband and she was humming. She looked … happy, the way Logan remembered her as a young boy. Back before things got bad. Back when she still baked cookies._

"_Mom?" he asked tentatively, stepping into the cozy kitchen._

_Lynn looked up and the wide smile she gave her son lit her face._

"_It's about time you got up, sleepyhead. I was starting to think you were going to snooze away the entire day," she said affectionately. Lynn paused and put down the spoon, walking out from behind the counter to cup Logan's face in her floured hands. She peered into his eyes and asked, "Are you okay, sweetheart?"_

"_Mom … I can't believe you're here," he said in a choked whisper. "I've missed you so much."_

"_Well, of course I'm here. Where else would I be?" Lynn answered, drawing his head down to her shoulder. She cradled him in her arms as if he were still a little boy and Logan wrapped his arms around his mother's slender form, clinging to her in a way he hadn't been able to in years. "Everything will be okay," she whispered, and somehow he believed her._

_After several, long minutes, Lynn pulled away gently. "Son, don't you have to get going? Veronica is waiting for you."_

"…_What?"_

"_You know – Veronica? The girl you're head over heels in love with. Take a little advice from your mother, who used to be young once upon a time: It's never a good idea to keep a girl waiting."_

_Confused, Logan shook his head. "Veronica isn't … What if I don't want to go? Can't I just stay here with you?"_

"_Aw, words to warm a mother's heart," Lynn said, tweaking his chin. "But you really should go. You're young. You should be out in the world having fun, being happy. Promise me you'll be happy, Logan."_

"_I – I promise," Logan gulped, blinking away tears he hadn't realized were there._

_A knock at the door startled him, but Lynn seemed to expect it and, just like before, Logan was helpless, unable to resist following the sound. In a daze, he slowly began to walk to the front of the house, but turned when he heard his mother softly calling his name._

"_I love you, Logan."_

_A peaceful calm settled in his heart as Logan smiled and waved at his mother. "I love you too, Mom."_

_Suddenly standing at the door, he grasped the brass knob and twisted it. Stepping out, Logan could feel the fine, white sand of the beach between his bare toes. The sun was hot on his face and shoulders, warming his cold skin. He scanned the empty shore, jogging to the water's edge, where he sat, eyes closed as he listened to the pounding surf. He lay back against the burning sand, feeling tranquil and happy, content to revel in the beauty of the Pacific Ocean._

"_Remember me, lover?" A teasing voice he hadn't heard in years jolted Logan from his reverie and he opened his eyes, turning his head towards the sound._

_Wearing only a barely there, bright pink bikini, Lilly lay basking in the sun beside him, propped on her elbows, head thrown back, a devilish smile on her face. "Miss me?" she asked, seductively._

"_Always."_

"_Logan Echolls! You'd better not let Veronica hear you say that." Lilly laughed, and the peals of glee rang deliciously in his ears. "By the way, she says to get your scrawny ass back to Neptune, ASAP. Seems you left a mess and God knows our favorite little detective doesn't like to play the maid. She's gotten feisty since I left, hasn't she?"_

_Abruptly, she stood, striding into the sparkling water, her hips swinging. Logan felt dizzy as he followed her into the surf, overwhelmed by memories of being with Lilly, frolicking on the beach, in his pool and in her bed._

_He was wondering if some sort of time warp had spun him back to the ninth grade, when Lilly turned and wagged a finger at him._

"_You can't come with me, Logan. You have to go back. It's not over, yet. Veronica said so and besides … she needs you." Lilly's lips curved in a small, sad smile. "She loves you, Logan. And unlike me, she can love you the way you deserve to be loved."_

"_No, you're wrong. Veronica doesn't want me," Logan said, shaking his head. For once, the knowledge didn't hurt. "I don't want to go back."_

_He continued walking towards the sun, going deeper into the cool water, now lapping at his thighs. But he faltered, when he heard a familiar voice from the shore, desperately calling his name. Peering at the stretch of beach, Logan couldn't quite make out the small form in the distance, but he could hear her voice in his head, pleading with him not to leave._

_And suddenly, he knew what he had to do._

_Logan looked back at Lilly. Radiant in the sunlight streaming behind her, Lilly threw him a saucy grin. "I told you so," she said knowingly. "You'd better hurry. Veronica is waiting for you."_

_Nodding, he waved goodbye to the first girl he ever loved, before turning away from the blinding sun. With joy in his heart, Logan walked slowly back to shore._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Beep … Beep … Beep …

The high-pitched blips coming from the heart monitor started out faint, each one growing stronger than the last, and Veronica sobbed in relief as she recognized the slow but steady sound.

Logan's heartbeat.

The doctors and nurses around his bedside erupted into a renewed flurry of activity, which she only vaguely registered. Veronica was too busy smiling tearfully into Logan's open and bleary, brown eyes.

"My ass isn't scrawny," he croaked weakly.

**Two weeks later … **

Logan napped on Veronica's bed, his back against the wall, face pressed into the furry neck of Backup, who twitched in his sleep, snoring loudly. It was a hot, humid, summer afternoon and the air conditioner hummed, cooling Logan's heated skin.

After he no longer required 'round the clock care and demonstrated he could not only get in and out of bed on his own, but walk down the hallway without getting winded, Logan's doctors had finally released him from the hospital. His shoulder was heavily bandaged and he had to wear his left arm in a sling so the weight wouldn't pull at the still-healing muscles. He was under a strict regiment of potent antibiotics to ward off any infections, but usually they left him feeling drowsy and a little nauseous.

Logan also needed help with a few basic functions like getting dressed and changing his bandages, since he couldn't use one arm, which is why Keith and Veronica had insisted he stay with them to recuperate. He'd protested, saying he could hire a nurse or ask Dick for help.

Veronica had snorted at that last idea. "Do you really want Dick helping you get dressed every day, Logan? That prospect doesn't scare you at all?"

Logan hadn't answered, but secretly he thought Veronica was a lot scarier than Dick would ever be.

"Your apartment is cramped enough - where do you plan to put me? The bath tub?" he'd argued, confident that it would be a cold day in hell before Keith Mars would let him sleep under the same roof as his precious offspring.

But he'd been wrong. When both father and daughter trained their stern stares on him, Logan had caved. He didn't have the strength to fight the entire Mars clan.

"It'll be like a slumber party," Veronica had assured him with a sly smile. "I'll even paint your toe nails."

She'd given up her room for him, yet another argument he'd lost. But he had to admit Veronica's twin-size bed was a lot more comfortable than sleeping with his feet hanging off the edge of the couch. The one drawback was Backup, who'd tagged Logan for a sucker his first night in the Mars' apartment. The 60-pound pit bull had been hogging the bed ever since.

The day he was released from the hospital, Veronica and Keith had accompanied him to the Grande, where they picked up some of his things, then helped him settle into their home. It had only been a few days, but Logan already felt at ease. What the Mars' modest apartment lacked in size and amenities, it more than made up for in comfort and warmth.

The clatter of pans woke Logan from his nap. Content to just lay there resting, he idly stroked Backup's coat for several minutes until the scent of vanilla and chocolate baking in the oven wafted into the room, enticing him out of bed.

Veronica was in the kitchen transferring freshly baked cookies onto a cooling rack, happily humming along with her iPod. Unaware of Logan, who was quietly watching her from the doorway, she carefully spooned dough onto the empty cookie sheet. She slid the new batch into the oven and turned, her face breaking into a bright smile as she caught sight of him.

"Hey," she said, pulling out her ear buds.

"Hey, yourself."

Logan strolled lazily into the kitchen, leaning over the counter to dip his finger in the large mixing bowl. "Mmmm…chocolate chip. Wallace must be coming over. You two having another horror flick marathon?"

"No. He's got a hot date tonight," Veronica said, slapping Logan's hand as he tried to get another scoop of dough. "Besides, Wallace likes snickerdoodles."

"Then what's with the Betty Crocker routine?" Logan asked, reaching for a cookie instead.

"The cookies are for you. Chocolate chip's your favorite, right?"

Startled, Logan paused mid-bite, raising his eyebrows. "You're baking cookies for _me_? I must've been sicker than I thought."

"You weren't sick. You got shot and almost died, Logan," she said, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice.

"Hey," Logan said soothingly, putting down the cookie to give her arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm fine now, Veronica, and thanks to you and your dad, I'm getting stronger every day. So you can stop worrying, okay?"

Unable to answer, Veronica just nodded and gave him a wobbly smile. They soon slipped into easy conversation as she filled him in on Wallace's latest paramour – a "super fine sistah" he met at some party. "He's taking her to Luigi's, so I told him not to order the bruschetta if he wanted to get any lip action tonight."

Logan chuckled. "Like that ever stopped you," he said, going to the refrigerator for a glass of milk. "So, I was thinking, if you don't have any plans for your birthday tomorrow, I'd like to take you and your dad out to dinner. What do you say?"

Veronica grew suddenly quiet and a funny look crossed her face as she busied herself by dropping another batch of cookies onto the pan.

"Uh oh. I know that face," Logan deadpanned. "What happened this time? Wait. Don't tell me. Aaron fathered triplets and now I'm their legal guardian. No, _you_ had triplets and I'm the father."

That brought a grin to Veronica's face and she leaned over to swat Logan with her oven mitt. "You'd better not let my dad hear you say that," she warned. Taking a deep breath, she paused, choosing her words carefully. "It's about my birthday."

"What about it?"

"Well, this new restaurant opened last week on the pier and it's been getting rave reviews," she said slowly. "Wallace, Mac and Piz want to take me there tomorrow night. They're bringing … friends, and we're getting all dolled up."

Confused, Logan wondered why a night on the town with friends would be a touchy subject for Veronica, until he realized what she was really getting at, and his heart sank.

_Fuck. She's going on a date with some asshole._

He focused his attention on the mixing bowl, reaching over to take another scoop of dough as he forced his voice to sound casual and light.

"Sounds cool. Have fun," he said, licking the sugary batter off his finger.

Veronica sighed, worrying her lip as a flush crept up her cheeks. "The thing is … I was hoping you'd join us, if you think you're up to it. Everyone is bringing someone and … well, I – I thought I could bring you. You know - as my date."

Logan jerked his head up in surprise, but before he could respond Veronica rushed ahead nervously.

"Or, you know, you could invite someone else. I know Christina's called a few times … It won't bother me. Really, Logan."

His lips curved into a slow grin. "Sure it wouldn't," Logan said, helping himself to another cookie. "So all this baking was just to butter me up so you could ask me out on a date? You know I'm not going to put out, right Mars? I'm just not that kind of guy."

"Yes you are," Veronica bantered back, her eyes lifting to meet his in a challenge. But she flushed again remembering the unanswered question still hanging between them, and looked away. "So, is that a yes?"

Logan's teasing smirk softened as he smiled at her fondly. "Yeah, sure. Like I would really say no," he said, his voice low and husky. He reached out and cupped her face, gently brushing flour from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Veronica's body tingled, her breath hitching as she met his gaze. She could still feel the whisper of Logan's warm fingers on her neck and cheek, even after he hastily withdrew his hand.

"But Mars? Just so you know, I expect flowers. And chocolates…"

Veronica gave his good arm a light punch and they grinned at each other. For the first time that summer, Logan and Veronica felt their hearts flutter with hope.

When the timer dinged, Logan picked up an oven mitt and awkwardly eased the hot cookie sheet out of the oven with one hand while Veronica put the last batch in, shutting the door. She slid a few cookies onto a plate with a spatula and poured two glasses of milk.

As they sat at the counter, quietly munching warm cookies still oozing chocolate, Veronica studied Logan, anxiously looking for signs of fatigue or pain. She had to resist the urge not to ask him how he felt every five minutes, knowing he would soon chafe if she hovered too much.

All in all, Logan was handling his brush with death a lot better than Veronica. Despite the pain and frustration over his slow recovery, Logan seemed … happy. But no matter what he said, she couldn't help worrying. Especially when he rubbed his shoulder, or rushed to the bathroom, head bent over the toilet.

The other day when Logan grabbed Backup's leash and announced he was going for a walk, Veronica had quickly shut her laptop to join them, saying the pit bull was too much dog for one person to handle. Humoring her, Logan had handed Veronica the leash and the three of them strode along the beach just as the sun was setting.

But Logan's health wasn't the only thing eating at Veronica. When Christina peeked into his hospital room a week after his upgraded condition allowed him to move out of the ICU, Veronica had chatted with her politely, then quickly scampered off to the cafeteria to give them some privacy. She'd been torturing herself wondering what they'd talked about ever since. Logan didn't volunteer anything and she hadn't asked.

But when they were alone together, she'd often catch a tenderness in his glances that made her heart quicken. And once, after she helped him settle into her bedroom, he had clasped her hand in wordless appreciation. As always, his touch had sparked a white hot desire in Veronica she could swear was mirrored in Logan's eyes.

So she bided her time, waiting for the right moment to make her move and finally lay her heart on the line. Veronica's hesitation had nothing to do with doubt, or even a reluctance to surrender to her feelings. She just needed Logan to be sure of her this time.

Assuming, of course, he still wanted her.

That particular thought had Veronica's nerves on edge the next night as she fumbled with the zipper of her dress. She was running a little late. At the last minute, she'd changed her mind about the flirty, blue kimono dress, deciding it made her look too chaste. But the slinky, red satin number went too far in the other direction. Forty-five minutes and half a dozen outfits later, she finally decided on a black slip dress made of silk.

Now, if she could only find the right accessories. She was still rummaging through her closet when Logan knocked on the bedroom door.

"Uh, are you okay?" he asked, looking around the room. The bed was piled with clothes, shoes were scattered nearby and her jewelry box was overturned on the dresser, but he couldn't find Veronica. "Where are you?"

"In here." Veronica came out of the closet clad in a lightweight, cotton bathrobe, and tossed a pair of pointy, black high heels on the floor next to something draped over a chair. "I'm almost ready. I just _can't_ find a necklace that looks good with this dress," she grumbled.

While Veronica moved her search to a bowl on the bookshelf, Logan opened the dresser drawer she'd cleared for him and took out a slim, wrapped box tied with a white satin bow. "Happy birthday," he said, handing it to her. "And no, it's not a pony."

Smiling in surprised pleasure, Veronica took the box. "Logan, when did you have time to get me anything? You just got out of the hospital a few days ago and you were supposed be resting."

Lifting his injured arm, he pretended to peer into the sling. "Did the tracking device stop working?" he quipped. "Easy there, Nancy Drew. I got it months ago. It was with the stuff I brought back from the Grande."

"Good to know I can put away the magnifying glass, now. It was getting kind of heavy."

"Are you going to open your present, or just look at it?"

Grinning, Veronica pulled the ribbon loose and tore open the silver paper. She lifted the lid and took out a black velvet case, impatiently flipping it open.

The necklace inside was the prettiest she'd ever seen. The white gold sphere, hanging from a fragile chain, had a moon and stars motif with tiny diamonds that glinted in the light. Speechless, she withdrew the necklace from its box. As it dangled between her fingers, Veronica noticed an inscription on the back of the pendant, which she quickly turned over to read.

Her breath caught when she saw the way he'd arranged the letters in their names, tears clogging Veronica's throat as she remembered that long-ago spring night in the library.

"I thought of you when I saw it, but that was a while back," Logan explained again, trying to read her reaction. "I figured you might as well have it."

Veronica swallowed and looked up, her eyes boring soulfully into his, hoping he could see what his gift meant to her. "Logan … it's _perfect_. I love it."

Logan smiled, relieved. "I'm glad," he said, before leaving the room to let Veronica get ready.

He was sitting at the counter, sipping a soda, when she emerged ten minutes later. The simple black dress slid enticingly over her body as she strode towards him. It fell above her knees, leaving her legs and arms bare, exposing just enough milky white skin to make Logan gulp.

"Uh, hey," he said, getting to his feet. _Smooth, Echolls. You sound like a horny 14-year-old._

Logan cleared his throat and added, "You look beautiful, Veronica. I'm no expert, but I think the necklace works with the dress." He looked down at her beaming face and smiled back a little shyly.

"You're looking pretty snazzy there yourself, handsome," Veronica said, reaching up to fix his shirt collar, her hands lingering on his chest. "Logan … I …"

A knock at the door interrupted her and Veronica sighed. "Shoot. I still have to find my sweater. Can you get that?" She disappeared back into her room and Logan turned to answer the door.

Piz and Wallace were standing on the porch, while Mac, Parker and Brian trailed behind still making their way over to the Mars apartment.

"Hey man," Wallace said, walking inside as Logan held open the door. "You're looking a lot better. The last time I was here, you were busy barfing your guts out."

"Thanks, Wallace," Logan answered, dryly. He looked expectantly at Piz, who was still standing awkwardly just outside the doorway, warily glancing at Logan. "Are you coming in, or what?"

"Uh, that depends. Are you going to hit me again?" Piz joked feebly, shifting his feet.

Logan considered. "I don't know. Are you going to kiss Veronica again?"

Piz's mouth dropped and Wallace grabbed his shirt, pulling him inside. "Don't sweat it. He's just kidding. You are kidding, right?"

Logan shrugged. At the sight of Piz, Logan was seized by a fierce possessiveness, and in that moment he knew no matter what happened between them, he would always think of Veronica as _his_. It reeked of the kind of overprotective chauvinism Veronica hated, and if she ever got a hint of what he was thinking, he'd have hell to pay.

But Logan didn't give a damn.

"Of course he's kidding." They all turned to see Veronica coming out of her room, this time wearing a sweater Logan instantly wanted to peel off her. She walked over and, turning to Logan so the others couldn't see her, she silently mouthed, "Be nice."

He lifted his shoulders innocently, bending to whisper in her ear. "I didn't actually hit him, did I?" Veronica swatted him with her beaded evening bag just as the others were filing into the living room.

"Happy birthday, sweetie," Parker squealed. "You look _fabulous_. Aren't you just _so_ excited? I've been hearing great things about this restaurant. Their dessert is supposed to be _to die for_."

"Good, because I could eat a horse," Veronica said.

Logan snorted, quirking his eyebrows at her and smirking. "Maybe we'd better get going then. We wouldn't want our delicate flower here to faint from hunger."

Veronica rolled her eyes, grinning, as she flattened her hands against his chest and pushed him backwards towards the door. "Just for that, I'm not sharing my dessert."

A little while later, after the hostess had seated them at a table overlooking the harbor, Wallace was regaling the gang with tales of last night's disastrous date.

"Man, that girl could _talk_. I got the rundown on every guy she ever went out with, beginning with the one who tried to hold her hand when she was _twelve_. She tortured her last victim for two years before kicking him to the curb 'cause he forgot her favorite color was _fuchsia_, not pink. I'm telling you, she's seriously cuckoo … And did I mention her screech? My ears are _still_ ringing."

"I take it she's not joining us tonight?" Logan asked, a corner of his mouth twisting up in a grin.

"_Hell_, no."

Everyone laughed and by the time the waitress came around with a bottle of champagne - procured with the fake IDs Veronica made the previous fall - they had already moved on to a recap of their summer activities.

Wallace and Brian divided their time between basketball training camp and summer school, while Piz finished up his internship at a local radio station. The three of them had been sharing an on-campus apartment for a week and a Guitar Hero challenge was already well underway.

Parker had gone home to Colorado, but after just two months, she decided to return to Neptune early to escape her overbearing mother. She'd been staying with Mac's family ever since, and the two were planning to move into the Hearst dorms in a few days.

Mac spent the summer interning at Kane Software, where she'd overheard the vice president gossiping about Jake Kane's already messy separation from his wife and the upcoming divorce. "So much for Neptune's royal couple," Mac commented.

Logan and Veronica exchanged wry glances, remembering Celeste Kane's cold contempt for her own daughter. "Yeah, well, she always was a total bitch. I'm sure Duncan's dad has a real battle ahead of him," Logan muttered. "I hope he has a pre-nup."

"He does." Everyone stared at Veronica in surprise, but she just shrugged. "Lilly told me. She found it when she went snooping through her dad's office looking for proof she was adopted."

"Sounds like our Lilly," Logan chuckled fondly.

"Well, I guess the whole world knows what you two did this summer," Brian remarked, gesturing to Logan's trussed up arm. "What's the prognosis? Are you going to need physical therapy?"

"Yeah." Logan's hand automatically reached up to rub his shoulder. "It hasn't fully healed, though, so I probably won't be able to start for a few more weeks. But my doctor said there's no reason I shouldn't be doing cartwheels by Halloween."

"I'd settle for swimming by New Year's – in a shallow pool," Veronica said, concern lacing her voice. "Your doctor also told you to take things slow and not push yourself too much, or you could tear the muscles again."

Logan placed a comforting hand over hers and said in a calm, low voice, "Relax, tiger. I'll be _fine_. I promise I won't over do it."

The waitress broke in with plates of stuffed oysters and seared Ahi appetizers, and while they went around the table, Piz posed a question in between bites. "So what's going to happen to Morgan Kennedy? I heard she confessed. Hey, do you think she'd consent to an on-air interview? That would be so _awesome_."

Veronica smiled indulgently at Piz. "I wouldn't count on it. According to Lamb, she's going for a temporary insanity defense. She claims she was suffering from post-partum depression when she killed Andrew. But there was nothing crazy about the way she hid the body or plotted Harvey Greenblatt's supposed suicide."

"I don't get it. How'd she keep the kid a secret all that time?" Wallace asked. "I mean, he was almost three years old when he died, right?"

"It seems she was an untenured professor at an ultra-conservative Christian college in L.A. when she had Andrew. She was probably afraid she'd get fired if word got out she was an unwed mother, so she kept to herself and didn't tell anyone she had a son," Veronica explained. "My dad tracked down some of her former colleagues and they remembered she'd sometimes leave faculty meetings early to take care of some sick relative's kid."

"Yeah, but what about her friends and family? Surely they knew," Mac asked.

"Her parents were dead by then and she was an only child. When Andrew died, she had just moved back to Neptune to teach at Hearst, and no one here knew anything about her past. His death gave her a clean start."

"And to think she was so close to becoming president of Hearst," Parker said, shaking her head. "She could've been a role model to women, but instead she tried to hide her own son like some kind of shameful secret and wound up killing him. I saw her around campus a few times and she's the last person I would've suspected … I don't know how you guys figured it out."

"I didn't," Veronica answered truthfully. "I was chasing someone else. Logan pieced it all together."

Logan suddenly jolted to attention. "Whatever happened to Glory Pembroke? Her baby … I mean, Aaron …"

"... Wasn't the father," Veronica offered gently. "And it's Glory Czuchry now. She and your dad did have a thing back when they were students at Hearst, but it was over long before she got that role on his movie. By then, she was dating some studio executive, and they got married after shooting wrapped. Turns out, their son's an actor now. Surprise, surprise."

Logan looked relieved at first, but as he sat back, Veronica thought she saw disappointment ripple briefly across his strong features, reminding her how alone he must feel at times. He stood, excusing himself as he headed off towards the restrooms.

Parker pounced the moment he was out of earshot. "So Veronica, we're all dying to know. What's going on with you and Logan? Did you guys get back together? 'Cause you're acting _very friendly_. It's so cute, it's disgusting."

"Um … I don't know. We haven't really talked about it," she answered, watching his retreating back.

"Girl, when are you going to put yourself out of your misery?" Wallace intoned. "You two have been dancing around each other for _weeks_ now. Just get it _over_ with already. You want him, he wants you. What's the problem?"

Veronica opened her mouth to affectionately tell Wallace he should mind his own beeswax, but Parker was too quick.

"Veronica, he _saved_ your life. He's your very own, real life hero – a totally _hot_, real life hero."

"Parker, he almost died," Veronica admonished.

"Yeah, but aside from that part, it's like, The Most Romantic Thing Ever. It would make any girl seriously _swoon_. Honestly, I think I'm swooning a little now."

"What are you swooning about?" Logan asked, suddenly appearing by Veronica's side before he slid back into his chair.

"Colin Farrel," Veronica quickly lied, hoping Logan didn't notice the blush creeping up her neck. "Parker saw him roller-blading shirtless at Venice Beach last week. She loved him in 'Miami Vice.'"

"Really?" Piz asked. "You did? 'Cause I heard that movie sucked."

Everyone, with the exception of Logan, stared at Piz in bemusement.

Their entrees arrived just then, and soon the conversation shifted to more ordinary topics like the fall semester starting in less than a week, Hearst's chances at winning the league basketball championship, and a lengthy discussion about how to spend their last weekend of freedom before classes resumed.

Veronica was on her third glass of champagne and feeling a little giddy, when the waitress came by with a tray covered with rich chocolate cake, tarts, tiramisu, crème brule and an assortment of homemade sorbet. They ordered one of each sweet confection to share and for several minutes the table was silent as everyone consumed their dessert.

It was well past midnight when Logan drove Wallace, Brian and Piz back to their apartment. Because his medication prevented him from imbibing, Logan was the evening's designated driver, and the three roommates were the last of the party-goers to be dropped off. Veronica waved goodbye, thanking them for their gifts.

"Did you have fun?" Logan asked, as the Range Rover coasted easily along the ocean road.

"Best. Birthday. Ever," Veronica giggled, twisting in her seat to face him.

"I see someone had too much champagne. Good thing your dad's out of town."

"Logan, I'm not drunk. Just … happy."

He glanced over at her, offering a soft smile. "I'm glad you had a good time. You deserve it."

"Did you? Have fun, I mean?"

"Yeah. I did."

"Good."

The SUV slowed and came to a stop in front of the Sunset Cliffs complex. They didn't speak as they walked to her apartment, the silence charged with the familiar electricity that always seemed to flow between them. Veronica took out her key and fit it in the lock, pausing as she looked at Logan.

His lean body was braced against the stucco wall with his free hand shoved in the pocket of his slacks. The soft cotton of the grey button-up shirt he wore stretched snugly across his well-muscled chest, and the yellow glow of the porch light brought out the gold flecks in his brown eyes.

Parker's right, she thought. _He'd make any girl swoon_. Impulsively, Veronica leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Logan froze in surprise, gazing at her questioningly. "What for?"

"Everything. Logan … I don't deserve you."

"Veronica…"

"No, listen." She stilled him with a hand over his heart, her eyes pleading. "_I love you, Logan_. I love you … I admit, I – I wasn't sure of us … at first. But this past year, you've made me happier than I've been in a long time … I know it probably didn't seem that way to you and I'm so sorry for that. I – I got scared.

"I let my doubts ruin the best thing that ever happened to me." She lowered her head, shame coloring her cheeks, before raising her eyes to meet his again. "I don't know if you can ever forgive me, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. But I'm not scared anymore. I want to be with you, Logan … if you still want me."

Logan let out a long, heavy sigh and looked away, the cautious joy he felt marred by nagging doubts of his own. "Maybe you did drink too much champagne," he tried to joke, returning his searching gaze to her upturned face. "Are you _sure_, Veronica? It's only been a couple of weeks … maybe it's too soon. I just don't want you to look back and regret being with me again. I couldn't bear it."

Tears welled in Veronica's eyes, her heart shattering painfully at his uncertainty. But her voice was clear when she spoke. "I've never regretted being with you, Logan. Never. I know you have no reason to believe me, but it's true.

"My feelings for you have nothing to do with gratitude. All those sweet, crazy things you do for me are only a small part of what I love about you … I've loved you for a long time, Logan … b-but I just couldn't admit it. Whatever happens, you have to believe me. I can't bear you not knowing how much you mean to me. I'm just sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Logan reached Veronica with one step, cupping her face as he kissed her. He plunged his tongue into her open mouth, hungrily exploring, desperate to relearn every nook and cranny. He tasted salty tears mixed with chocolate and champagne as well as Veronica's own, sweet, heady flavor, and it hit him how much he had _missed_ kissing this beautiful girl before him.

Logan was devouring her and Veronica reveled in it.

She snaked one arm around his waist, standing on her tip toes, her other arm reaching up to grasp Logan's neck and pull him closer. She pressed herself against his warm body and felt the hard, throbbing length of him jutting against her belly. Desire and heat pooled in her center, and she nearly wept at the delicious sensations. She'd _missed_ the feel of his strong body against hers, and the brush of his hands on her skin, touching her in ways that made her ache with need.

Veronica moaned softly and he turned them so she had her back against the door, barely registering the feel of the cold glass through the thin silk of her dress. He leaned into her and settled a muscular thigh between her legs, chuckling as she unconsciously rubbed herself along its length. Breaking off the kiss, Logan began tracing the graceful column of her neck with his lips.

"We should … inside," Veronica gasped, fumbling behind her for the doorknob.

The door burst open and they tumbled inside, their mouths fused. Logan kicked the door closed, and with an arm firmly around her waist, danced Veronica past the kitchen into the hallway, where he pressed her up against the wall.

Logan ran his hand over cool silk, traveling up from her hip to cup her breast. He gently thumbed the hardened nipple, eliciting another groan from Veronica. Reluctantly, he stopped to tug at her sweater with his only free hand, anxious to touch Veronica's bare skin. She pulled away briefly to wriggle free of the garment.

"This used to be easier," he mumbled, trailing hot kisses along her collarbone.

She smiled, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Practice makes perfect. In the meantime …" Veronica reached down to unbuckle Logan's belt. Slipping her hand inside, she grasped his straining erection.

Logan groaned, and Veronica's lips curved in a satisfied smirk. But he quickly evened the score. Yanking up the skirt of her dress, Logan slid his hand along the inside of her thigh, feeling Veronica tremble. Relentless, he wrenched down her lace panties and pressed a finger into her slick folds, making her gasp and shake.

"A little eager, Veronica?" he whispered in her ear, his deep, throaty voice sending shivers down her spine. He eased in another finger, slowly pumping them deeply inside her, his thumb rubbing tantalizing circles over her sensitive clit.

"Oh god … Logan …" Veronica gasped, her hips bucking.

He leaned forward, covering her mouth with his as he continued his tender assault. His skillful fingers filled her, but left Veronica craving more. She gripped his shoulder as the sensations quickly overwhelmed her, and cried out, the wave crashing over her, cresting and gradually ebbing away.

Logan eased his hand away, holding Veronica for several moments as she swayed on wobbly legs. He soothed her flushed skin by trailing soft kisses from the ticklish spot behind her ear, down her neck and along the gentle slope of her shoulder. She half whispered, half moaned his name and Logan's cock jerked at the breathy sound.

Veronica couldn't think clearly enough to utter even a few coherent words. Somehow, she was no longer wearing the top half of her dress, which was bunched around her hips along with her skirt. Logan's quick hands had also done away with the sheer, black lace bra she'd put on earlier in the evening with him in mind.

Now, Logan's head was bent and his mouth was doing magical things to her breast, first skimming the swell, then fastening onto its puckered nipple. Veronica felt the rough swirl of his tongue and let out a ragged sigh as he nipped at her playfully with his teeth, careful not to hurt her.

Eventually, she mustered the energy to nudge Logan's pants over his trim hips and he kicked them away, leaning back as Veronica gently helped extricate him from the sling. Her nimble fingers flew over the buttons of his shirt, pushing it away to bare his tanned, well-defined chest. Once free, Logan shed the rest of their clothes while steering them into her room.

They fell onto the bed, Veronica on top, their limbs entwined, kissing and exploring each other's bodies with fevered hands. When Logan winced slightly, Veronica rolled off him, gasping in alarm. "Oh my god. I didn't even think … maybe we shouldn't …"

She saw confused frustration flash across his face and, propping herself up on an elbow, reached out to stroke his cheek, quickly adding, "I mean, maybe _you_ shouldn't be doing this. The doctor said you could do permanent damage if you injure yourself again."

"I'll risk it," Logan murmured, craning his neck to recapture her lips. But she held him off.

"I'm serious, Logan."

"Relax, Veronica. It'll be fine. He said sex was okay as long as it doesn't get too crazy. So unless you suddenly go acrobatic on me, I think we're safe."

Smiling, Veronica leaned over and brushed her lips against his, tracing teasing circles on his chest with her fingers. "Darn. And here I had my heart set on doing it on a trapeze."

Logan grinned as she wantonly straddled his thighs and bent to kiss him. He let his fingers graze Veronica's neck before wandering along the smooth expanse of her thigh, skimming her rib cage before continuing upwards. Her small breasts barely filled his large hands, but Logan had always loved their exquisitely soft plumpness. He marveled at their familiar touch – a sensation he never expected to feel again.

Veronica's hand meandered over Logan's broad chest, loving the rippled feel of his muscles under her fingers, before straying lower. Even in repose, his strong, chiseled body was powerful and vibrant with life. Barely controlled passion glittered in Logan's eyes and between her legs, Veronica felt a new gush of wetness. Desire and possessiveness burned inside her; she desperately needed to finally reclaim Logan as _hers_. She was certain he'd laugh and tease her mercilessly if he knew what she was thinking. _But he didn't have to know, did he?_

Logan caught the small smile tugging at Veronica's lips and he started to open his mouth to ask what was behind the secretive smirk. But when he felt her hot, little hands on his rearing dick, all thought flew out of his head and he groaned, his hips thrusting up. Logan was suddenly desperate to be inside her, to feel her wet heat around him. He had a primitive urge to assert his claim on her once and for all.

"I'm still on the pill," she whispered tentatively. "So, we're okay, unless …"

When her words penetrated the haze of lust, Logan lifted his clouded gaze to meet Veronica's questioning blue eyes, cupping her face in his hands.

"There hasn't been anyone else … Not since you," he said, his voice quiet and earnest.

She drew a relieved breath and, smiling, bent to touch her forehead to his. Still holding her face, Logan first kissed one slightly damp cheek, then the other, until finally going back to her satiny lips.

After a few moments, Veronica drew away, sitting back on her haunches. The sight dazzled Logan. Her nude body glowed silver in the moonlight, the shadows accenting the delicate curves of her upturned breasts, hips, and belly. Her parted lips were red and swollen from Logan's kisses and, beneath hooded lids, her eyes were bright with desire.

Rising on her knees, Veronica guided Logan's heavy cock inside her, slowly sinking down and letting his thick hardness stretch and fill her until she wanted to scream at the sheer pleasure. Beneath her, Logan made a strangled noise, and she began rocking her hips in an erotic rhythm he soon matched.

He lifted his head suckling on one stiff, pink nipple, knowing the combined assault of his mouth on her breast while he was embedded deep inside her always pushed Veronica close to the edge. When a single, sharp gasp escaped Veronica's lips, Logan wanted to crow in triumph.

She undulated above him, riding Logan until he felt her muscles tightening around him, thighs trembling. Knowing she was on the verge of climax, he took over, splaying his hands over Veronica's rounded ass, grasping her closer so their bodies were locked together. He deepened his thrusts and was soon rewarded by her soft cries, spurring him to quicken his pace as she gripped his shoulders, the necklace he'd given her rocking back and forth between their bodies.

Veronica looked up to find Logan studying her intently, his warm, brown eyes filled with infinite tenderness … and love.

This time, Veronica's orgasm built slowly, exquisitely. Every nerve was tingling and her body practically hummed until the ecstasy consumed her. She cried out his name as bright lights flashed behind her closed eyes and her world exploded.

Only after Veronica came apart and collapsed, shuddering into his arms, did Logan finally let go, releasing inside her, loving the snug, tight feel of her as she quivered around him.

Panting, they lay in each other's arms, Veronica's head resting on Logan's good shoulder while he lightly stroked her flushed skin. Eventually, she rolled off him and he drew the covers over their naked bodies, too tired and sated to clean up. Veronica settled into the crook of his arms and, on impulse, pressed an ear against his chest.

"What are you doing?" Logan murmured.

"Listening to your heartbeat."

He sighed, content, and tightened his arms around Veronica, kissing her forehead gently just before they both drifted off to sleep.

By the time Logan woke the next morning, it was nearly noon and Veronica was gone.

He sat up and groggily glanced around the room. The pants and shirt he'd worn the night before were neatly folded and sitting on Veronica's desk chair, her dress and sweater draped carefully over its back. The door they'd flung open in their haste to tear each other's clothes off, was now tightly closed.

Suddenly wary, Logan grabbed his black sweatpants, quickly putting them on before heading outside in search of Veronica. He didn't have far to look.

She was sitting at the kitchen counter, wearing a tank top and thin cotton shorts, hair pulled back into a ponytail, reading the paper as she sipped a cup of coffee. Veronica looked up when he walked into the room, and smiled.

"Hey," she said, sliding off the barstool. "Did you sleep okay? I closed the door so Backup wouldn't bother you."

Veronica busied herself in the kitchen. She'd been up for hours, burning her nervous energy by tidying the apartment and cooking breakfast while Logan slept. She fixed him a plate of food, piling on generous portions of scrambled eggs and bacon before handing it to him.

"Uh, yeah. I slept great. Thanks," Logan took the plate and placed it on the counter next to hers, grimly wondering why she seemed just a little distant. Sighing inwardly, he reached for a coffee mug just as Veronica did. Their fingers brushed over cool ceramic.

Veronica felt an immediate jolt at the contact and looking up, saw Logan peering at her curiously. She flushed, and suddenly he understood.

In the bright morning light, the sex kitten who'd seduced him with one kiss and brazenly ridden him to the best orgasm of his life, was _bashful_.

Logan sometimes forgot his bold, fearless, superhero girlfriend had once been shy and naïve. A long time ago, he'd been fond of the innocent, and oh so pretty waif Lilly had befriended. But he'd fallen in love with the fierce, impossibly brilliant woman Veronica had become. Still, it both warmed and thrilled Logan's heart to know the old Veronica was still there, and he could occasionally bring out the girl she used to be.

"Hey," he said, closing the distance between them as he picked up Veronica's small hand and sweetly kissed her fingers. "You know I love you, right?"

Veronica's breath hitched and she felt sudden tears prick her eyes as she smiled up at Logan. "Yeah, I do," she said, wrapping her arms around Logan's neck. He bent his head, and she rested her forehead against his.

"I love you, too, Logan," Veronica whispered.

They laughed as he spun them around the tiny kitchen.


	13. Chapter 13

**Epilogue**

"Shit!" Logan swore at the sound of tearing paper, gritting his teeth in frustration as he tried to extricate himself from bits of tape and wrapping paper that clung to his fingers.

"Dude, just put 'em in gift bags," Dick called from the living room. "Why didn't you get someone at the store to wrap them for you?"

"'Cause I didn't buy their gifts at a store. And you know what a snoop Veronica is. If I use bags, she'll peek for sure," Logan grumbled.

"Suit yourself. I'm outta here. You and the lovely Ronnie have the love nest all to yourselves. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"See ya." Logan glanced at the time on his cell phone. He had twenty minutes before he had to pick up Veronica for their study date, and he was running late. Sighing, he cut off another large piece of paper and started over.

Logan had ended up going back to Hearst, but only enrolled in a couple of courses for the fall semester after his doctor warned him to take things slow. It had been nearly four months since the shooting, and Logan had fully recovered from his injury.

Several weeks ago, after his last physical therapy session, he'd even spent a weekend surfing in Mexico with Dick and a few of their old high school buddies. It had been great to be in the ocean again, feeling the powerful surf surging beneath his feet, and he'd spent two days riding the waves from sunup to sundown, until every muscle in his body ached.

Still, as much fun as he'd had hanging out and surfing with the guys, Logan missed Veronica horribly so he'd left early, just when the party at Enbom's family vacation condo was getting underway.

"You might as well cut off your balls and serve them to Ronnie on a silver platter," Dick had drunkenly chastised, while their other friends snickered.

But it had been worth the ridicule. When he'd come home to find Veronica sound asleep in his new, king-size bed, he couldn't resist waking her. She'd spent the rest of the night tenderly kissing away all his aches and pains.

Logan had finally moved out of the Neptune Grande. Using money from the sale of his parents' old house, he bought a three-bedroom condo on the beach, almost equidistance from campus and Veronica's apartment. Dick was technically renting one of the rooms, but he spent most of his nights at Heather's sprawling mansion.

The other room he'd turned into an office for Veronica to work in when she stayed over, which was surprisingly frequent. Except for the large, high-def, flat panel TV and supple, brown-leather couch he'd picked out, Logan had pretty much given Veronica free rein to decorate and furnish the condo as she pleased. "Just don't make it too girly," he'd beseeched. "I do have a reputation to live up to, you know."

Now, Christmas was just two weeks away and, for the first time since he was a young boy, Logan was actually looking forward to the holiday. He'd spent a quiet Thanksgiving with Veronica and her dad, and after they'd gorged themselves on dry turkey, mashed potatoes and stuffing, Logan had shyly invited them to spend Christmas at his lake house in Tahoe.

"It's nothing fancy, but there's plenty of room. Trina is currently 'between projects' and boyfriends so she'll be there, too," he'd said hesitantly, picking at the leftover pie on his plate. "It's close to the lifts, if you like to ski."

He'd been pleasantly surprised at how enthusiastically they'd reacted to his idea. Keith's eyes had lit up at the mention of skiing, saying it had been years since he'd had a chance to hit the slopes, and Veronica had immediately peppered him with questions.

"There's snow up there, right? So we could have an actual white Christmas with snowball fights and everything? When can we go?"

Excited by the prospect of sharing the holidays with people he cared about, Logan had agonized over their gifts before finally settling on what to get them.

When he'd donated his father's Hollywood memorabilia to the Balboa Children's Home annual charity auction, to raise money for the non-profit that gave abused children a place of refuge, other celebrities had come out of the woodwork with their old belongings. Logan had managed to win a baseball mitt signed by every member of the Sharks team who clinched the World Series back in '89. It was the perfect present for Keith.

Logan had decided to give Veronica a pair of diamond solitaire earrings that had belonged to his mother. He vaguely remembered Lynn saying they'd been a 21st birthday present from her parents, which explained why they were far smaller than the three-carat rocks she'd usually worn. But Logan thought the more refined, modest stones better suited Veronica.

To throw her off track, he'd put the earrings in a large box along with a pale blue, cashmere scarf he'd seen her admiring one day when they were strolling by a trendy Neptune boutique. Logan had even paid cash for the scarf, just in case Veronica got it into her head to track his credit card charges again. Logan was pulling out all the stops to surprise his super sleuth girlfriend.

Logan had even found a plush doggie bed for Backup through an online catalogue. It had arrived the other day, complete with the pit bull's name embroidered in red on sturdy, washable denim.

All in all, Logan couldn't have been happier. His relationship with Veronica was better than ever and, for once, he wasn't anxiously holding his breath, waiting for the floor to fall out from under him.

Now if he could just get the damned presents wrapped. After fifteen minutes of wrestling with the shimmering green paper and festive red ribbon, Logan finally managed to finish tying a bow around Veronica's gift. It was crooked, and for some reason, all the boxes looked oddly lumpy, but at least they were wrapped. He quickly hid them in Dick's room, knowing it was the one place Veronica would never venture.

He grabbed his keys and headed out. It was Friday night and they were going to the library. The night before, they'd started out full of good intentions, and for the first hour or so kept to their opposite ends of the couch, noses dutifully buried in their books. It wasn't long, however, before they were making out, Western Civ and Poli Sci completely forgotten, as they stumbled into the bedroom, where they spent the rest of the evening _studying_ each other's brains out.

But finals were less than a week away, so Logan hadn't put up a fight that morning when Veronica announced they were working at the library that night. In fact, Logan was on his best behavior.

He didn't let his lips linger too long on hers when she greeted him at the door. He refrained from kissing her nose, pink from the cold December air, even though she looked adorable in the striped stocking cap she wore pulled over her ears. And he was doing his damnedest to ignore the sexy way Veronica worried her lower lip when she was deep in concentration.

But his mind kept straying to the overnight bag she'd been carrying, and his heart rate quickened in anticipation. Just a couple more hours …

Veronica was restless.

It had been a busy couple of weeks. She'd picked up a few extra shifts at the library and did several freelance jobs for the Hearst Free Press, until she finally had enough money to pay for Logan's Christmas gift – a stainless steel watch she'd been eyeing for weeks.

With all his follow-up doctor appointments and physical therapy sessions on top of his classes, Logan was constantly pulling out his cell phone to check the time. He needed a watch, and the elegant but masculine, one she'd picked out was perfect. It ran on kinetic technology instead of a battery, charging with a shake of the wrist. It even had dual time zones, so if Logan decided he wanted to travel, he'd always know what time it was back home in Neptune. She couldn't wait to see his face when he opened it.

Veronica had never been happier. She was completely in love with Logan and for the first time since Lilly died, allowed herself to believe in fairy tales and happy endings again. Of course, they still fought and bickered, it was their nature. But they were on more secure footing this time around, and she was no longer plagued by misgivings or fears that everything would fall apart. Something told her, even if things did go wrong, they'd find their way back to each other. After all, they were epic.

She'd been eagerly anticipating their idyllic little winter getaway ever since Thanksgiving Day when Logan suggested it. They were leaving as soon as finals were over, and she was already packed, ornaments and all, because he'd promised they could get a tree. The idea of creating new Christmas memories with Logan, like roasting chestnuts and building snowmen, filled Veronica with joy.

Thoughts of making love to Logan beside a crackling fire filled Veronica with something else entirely.

In the meantime, she had a killer Western Civ final coming up, and she couldn't seem to concentrate on the textbook in front of her. Veronica had been reading the same sentence for the past ten minutes. And Logan was no help. Every time she glanced at him, his dark, intelligent eyes were darting across the pages of his book, his handsome face furrowed, obviously completely absorbed in the notes he was scribbling.

Studious College Boy Logan was seriously hot.

Sighing, Veronica turned back to her book, but her thoughts kept wandering to the previous night.

It had started innocently enough. She had been reviewing her notes on the fall of the Roman Empire, while, a few feet away, he'd restlessly tapped his pen on a book, his attention focused on the American two-party political system. But when they'd gone into the kitchen for a snack, a quick peck turned into fervid kisses and he soon had her sprawled naked on the cold, granite counter.

Veronica was a little fuzzy on the details, but vividly recalled the way he'd reverently traced soft kisses along her calves and the inside of her thighs until his mouth reached her center. After he brought her to a shattering climax using his teeth and tongue, Logan had whispered huskily in her ear, "I've been wanting to christen the kitchen."

Moments later, her body still vibrating, Logan had placed her on his bed and fucked her with slow deliberation, pounding into her until she screamed his name, coming for the second time that evening.

Veronica moaned involuntarily at the memory, jolting back to the present when Logan softly called her name.

"Hey, earth to Mars…you okay?"

She didn't answer, debating her choices for several, long minutes. Finally, a slow smile spread across her face, and she leaned forward.

"What do you say we ditch this place? Didn't you mention something about wanting to christen the kitchen?" she said, smirking as Logan's jaw dropped. "Because technically, I don't think what you did to me in there counts as …"

"A baptism?" he suggested smugly, arching his eyebrows. "Tempting. But shouldn't we study? What happened to 'No more goofing around, Logan,' and 'I really need to get some work done?'"

She shrugged, a seductive smile on her lips. "Right now, all I need is you."

Logan was grinning as they locked lips across the table.

When they finally broke away, breathless, Logan began throwing books into his backpack while Veronica quickly gathered her things. They strolled to his car, arm in arm, and when he pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head, Veronica pulled away, a smile in her eyes.

"Hey, did you know the first two letters of our names spell 'love'?"

"Don't get all mushy on me, Mars. Let's not forget 'vole.' What is it again? A cute rat?"

"Close enough. I thought of another one – 'Velo.'"

"Okay," Logan said, dryly. "I'll bite. What's a 'Velo?'"

"A French bike."

"Right. And I just remembered why I never play Boggle with you."

"'Cause I'd kick your ass."

Logan snorted, snaking his arms around Veronica's waist, pulling her against him. He nuzzled her neck and murmured, "Admit it. You love my ass."

Veronica twined her fingers in Logan's hair, sighing happily.

"_Yeah_ I do," she said, smiling as she heard Logan's answering chuckle.


End file.
